


dream things true

by amitye



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Bedside Vigils, Codependency, Cuddling & Snuggling, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mercutio Lives, Multi, Poison, Polyamory, Sharing a Bed, Unhealthy Friendship, Unhealthy Relationships, What-If, Whump, everybody lives but Tybalt really i feel awful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 34,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24153619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amitye/pseuds/amitye
Summary: After Mercutio and Benvolio fake their deaths to find a better life away from Verona and what their future will bring, a lucky coincidence allows them to save Romeo's life a second before it's too late.But even though no one died, it takes a lot more work than this to make a happy ending
Relationships: Mercutio & Benvolio Montague & Romeo Montague, Mercutio/Benvolio Montague, Mercutio/Romeo Montague, past Mercutio/Tybalt
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9
Collections: Hurt Comfort Exchange 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alley_Skywalker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alley_Skywalker/gifts).



> Hi Alley, I hope you can enjoy this angsty monster <3
> 
> This story can be counted as a sort of What if of my one shot "worthless to two", although its not necessary to read it to understand this one

Mercutio had never had easy dreams, ever since he was a child. His nurse would blame the fairies for taking a surely regal and perfect babe and swapping him with this unruly changeling, his mother the nurse's silly stories (although she hadn't been opposed to lashing him with a blessed olive branch and scrubbing salt on the wounds just in the case it freed him of malicious influence), his uncle a lack of manly discipline, Romeo the weight of unsaid secrets, Benvolio the wine and the fights - a hundred fears ignored with a laugh in daylight coming to chill his blood in the darkness. Mercutio had never really cared: he had learned to enjoy his more adventurous nights and chat up any monster or fairy who came to visit him until they rose from his chest and let him move again. 

But tonight's guest was nothing like the fanciful creatures of his childhood dreams, and every time Mercutio tried to speak to him he felt the air leave his body, wheezing and crying under his weight. Tybalt leaned hard over him, knees digging in his chest. "How is it Montague gets the romantic elopement, and I not even a flower on my grave?" 

_You were as aware as I was we wouldn't last a moment more without killing each other,_ Mercutio wanted to say, _and you won't always have a Montague to blame for every little problem you find_ , but he couldn't breathe enough to speak. Tybalt's words had always been bitter and his fists rough, even when they were together, but his caresses were as timid and tender as any inexperienced fifteen year old boy's. There was nothing tender now about the way his hands wrapped around Mercutio's throat, nothing lovestruck and hesitant about the look in his eyes.  
"You've let me die."  
His dark hair brushed on Mercutio's cheeks as he leaned closer. His hold tightened. Mercutio's hand twitched with the instinct to push him away, but his arm was glued to the ground. "You've let me die thinking I was a murderer! Didn't you say you loved me?" 

Black spots stained his vision. "I did" he managed to croak, not even knowing which of those questions he was answering, then the words dissolved in a coughing fit. Tybalt was gone, but he still felt his tears on his cheeks - or was it his blood? He raised his hands to scrub it away, clawing at his face, but Benvolio's fingers wrapped around his wrist. "It's okay, it's over."  
His soft voice brought him back to reality, dispelling the last shadows of his dream until he was aware he was lying in Benvolio's arms, staring up into the starry sky.  
He was silent for a moment, trying to give his breathing some semblance of rhythm. Benvolio encouraged him, rubbing the tight spot between his shoulder blades. 

"You scared me. I woke up and you were just lying there with your eyes open, I - I thought you were dying."  
He shivered and hid his face in Benvolio's chest, trying not to think of how close to that he had felt. He had managed to avoid spending the night with him carefully enough that Benvolio didn’t know how exactly his nightmares were different from anyone else’s. He didn’t particularly want to change that. "Just an angry kitten coming for vengeance, that’s all.”

“Romeooow, of course.” Benvolio smiled melancholy, too wrapped up in his thoughts to notice how red Mercutio had gone at the mention of his childhood nickname. “I’ve been thinking about him too, you know. I keep wondering if we could have handled this better, if it was so necessary to keep him in the dark. But we couldn't know what he was going to do, and it was our last chance to do anything before my wedding, you said that yourself. We’ll explain everything to him when we get to Mantua. There's no need to feel guilty." 

Benvolio's voice always had the power to calm him, even when he was outrageously lying, so he let him finish before correcting him. "It was Tybalt, not Romeo."  
He thought of the last time he had seen Romeo - adorably tousled, sweaty from the fight, the most guilty and heart-wrenching look on his face - and he pulled away abruptly, burying his face in his hands. He wasn't sure which of the two would have been worse.  
"And what would Tybalt want with you?" Benvolio asked, audibly struggling to keep his voice neutral.  
He grimaced. "Just a flower on his grave."  
He wanted to say something more, something clearer, but he could just throw his head back and grunt in frustration. Looking for a way to explain what he was feeling that wouldn't just confirm he had gone insane was a waste of time. 

Benvolio frowned, but kept stroking his hair in practiced rhythmic motions. "It's all over. He can't hurt you now."  
When Mercutio didn't respond he cupped his cheek and tilted his face towards him. "How are you feeling, beyond the bad dreams?"  
He blinked and raised his eyebrows at Benvolio, startled. "Good?" 

His hand ran down Mercutio's shirt, caressing his skin where Tybalt's sword had left his parting gift. "Is this still bothering you?"  
He shook his head. He had bled like a gutted pig when Tybalt just struck him, mostly from the heat and exertion of the fight, so luckily it had been easy enough to convince everyone on the square there was nothing that could be done for him, but now he was all stitched up and the first weakness had passed he didn't feel anything. He blinked a few times, trying to erase the way Tybalt had screamed and jumped back when he saw he was the one in front of the blade, and how little he had hesitated to leave him for the executioner instead. _  
Big fucking good deed, like he wasn’t perfectly happy with killing Romeo, why do you even care?_

“Well, then we should get going. If we hurry up we can be back to Verona and out again in two days."  
He stood up and rubbed his eyes, half convinced he was still dreaming. "Really? You're that scared of a poor little ghost kit-"  
Benvolio stopped him with a kiss, so soft and quick he barely felt it. "You've been having bad dreams since we left; if this is what you need, that's fine. I'd rather you not go insane within the next couple weeks, especially if we're to spend the rest of our lives together, you know?"  
Mercutio grimaced and pulled away . "You're sure you want to waste time on that?" He bit his lip. He felt still too rattled to be able to say _Some would say that ship has sailed and sunk_ without shaking. "It will mess up your precious plan."

"So? The whole point of this is we're supposed to have all the time in the world now. A few days won't kill us."  
.

***

Benvolio hugged himself nervously, looking at the open entrance of the Capulet crypt. A crowbar had been haphazardly thrown off in the first steps of the monument, and a trail of blood departed from the marble steps  
"Do you still want to go in?" Mercutio asked, toying with the dandelion he had picked on the road. It wasn't red, but he hoped at least in death Tybalt would have learned to be more accommodating.

"Mh-mh. Yes.Must just have been some accident when they opened the vault to take him in" Benvolio said, although he looked white as a sheet in the trembling light of his torch. "Let's just get it over and done with."  
Mercutio grabbed his hand before he could freeze or bolt away and took the first few steps down in the darkness, then halted. There was something coming from the crypt - soft muffled sobs at first, then words, whispered in an exhausted monotone. He squinted, trying to make it out, but before he could Benvolio left his hand and slumped against the wall, eyes wide with terror. 

"That's Romeo's voice." He whimpered, almost like he couldn't believe his own words. Mercutio stared at him, almost uncomprehending, trying and failing to piece together a reason why Romeo would be here, in the Capulet's crypt in the middle of the night or in Verona at all. Then a scream came - _away, bitter conduct, unsavory guide_ \- helpless and high pitched, unmistakably Romeo's. 

They didn't even have to look at each other before running in, screaming his name and aiming their torches at every dark corner. Romeo did not seem to hear them. He was perched on a bier, curled on himself like a hurt child, holding the hand of a tiny girl drowned in pink and golden damask. When Mercutio hesitantly stepped closer, he saw his cheeks were stained with tears and there was a tiny glass vial in his hand. 

"Stop" he screamed, just as Romeo cried out "thus with a kiss I die." He jumped on him and tackled him off the bier, sending the vial rolling to the other corner of the room.  
"What the fuck are you doing? Why?"  
His voice was so shrill it barely made a sound, but Romeo still winced, staring at him with such terrified, uncomprehending eyes he just wanted to hold him close and cry and beg for forgiveness for scaring him so much. He was stiff as a board, his fingers shaking as he reached blindly for Mercutio's hand, but for a wild moment he dared to hope everything was alright, that he was just shocked and confused and he would find the strength to scream at him at any moment. Then his eyes clouded over and he threw his head back with a faint whimper. 

"No, no, no, no." He put his hand behind his nape and pressed their faces together, stroking Romeo's cheek. "Look at me, come on, come on, Meow Meow."  
He thought he saw some flicker of recognition on his face, a half smile or something like that, so he kept repeating it like a magic word, as if he was just a little feverish or sniffling under his bed because some Capulet made fun of him and just the memory of their carefree childhood days would make him melt down into giggles at any moment, but he wasn't reacting to his touch anymore, even as he shook him, smacked him, stuck his fingers down in his throat. His screams either. 

He barely registered Benvolio kneeling by his side, showing him the half empty poison bottle and running to call for help, his words getting lost in the rush. The world was reduced to the two of them, just like the moment Tybalt had pointed his sword at him.  
Romeo's hands were still twitching and he felt like a royal idiot thinking there was anything at all he could do to help him, but he wrapped his cloak around his shoulders and held him tight against his chest, hoping his warmth would at least soothe him a little.  
Soon the spams spread to his whole body and it became hard to hold him, but when he pressed his lips against his temple he felt the faint pulsation of his heart and it felt like the only thing in the world that might still keep him sane, so he just carefully loosened his hold and waited. He turned his head so tears wouldn't fall on his face, but no tears were coming out - just a desperate, animal whimper. 

He didn't know how long that was, but when Benvolio and Friar Lawrence came running into the vault he had lost his voice and Romeo was lying still in his arms again, a little green in the face and completely unresponsive, but still breathing. They laid him out on the floor, and Mercutio sagged back like his last support had been cut, hitting the marble with a dull thud. 

"It must be some nightshade compound, but I don't know what else is there. I'll have to have the antidote delivered to you" the friar said when they had answered his questions, and Mercutio screamed in agony, nails digging in his arms. There was no hope at all, he could feel it - he would get up just in time just to see the light fade out of his eyes and so he couldn’t, just couldn’t get up.  
Romeo was pulled in a sitting position, given a vial of something and held up as he groaned and retched. He saw Benvolio stroke his cheek and mutter something - words of encouragement, he had to assume, but Romeo was nowhere near awake enough to hear them. He laid him back down and moved a little to the side to let the friar work, grasping Mercutio’s hand so hard it hurt.

"Will he live?"  
"It's… Not unlikely, that's the most I can say for now. He didn't get the full lethal dose, but we can't know how much damage he had yet. If he lives through the night, it would be already a certainty…"  
"But we have nowhere to take him” Benvolio said, plaintive, the voice of a scared little boy, and Mercutio had nothing to give to ease his fears, no idea, no distraction, no affection, no fairy dust to give sweet dreams to sad, lost children, and Romeo used to say he was their guardian angel, that he could give a smile to anyone in any moment -  
“He can’t be on the road in this state, and he can’t be seen in Verona.”  
“There’s a house where I meant to send the poor children. I’ll have Friar John take you there, and I can give him something to help him sleep through the journey. ” the Friar replied, saving him from his shameful helplessness.

“No, Mercutio can’t be seen by anyone else! Can’t you guide us, Father?”  
Mercutio took a few seconds to remember why no one could see him, and even then he did not particularly care. His glance was fixed on Romeo and his face was calm and peaceful, but he knew that was counterfeited and he would still be screaming in pain when he woke and it didn’t give him any comfort at all.  
"I may try, but this girl will wake before dawn, and it will be quite awful for her to wake alone."

Mercutio blinked in confusion, lifting his head slightly. "What's this about?"  
"Nothing" Benvolio said quickly, lightly patting his shoulder as, he supposed, the most affection he felt safe with in the presence of the friar "You shouldn't be fretting about this."  
"No, no, what's going on?"  
Benvolio sighed. "Listen, that girl is the Capulet's daughter. He and Romeo… Got married, I know, don't ask me anything, we'll think of that later."  
Mercutio was in disbelief for a moment, then laughed bitterly. He had been too scared and focused on whether Romeo would live to wonder what had led him to this point, but he supposed that was like him enough." Well, that was for sure worth this" he said, his fist tightening. 

Benvolio shot a look at the Friar and then at the small, insignificant girl on the bier, then continued, flustered "Now, she isn't really dead. Father Lawrence gave her a sleeping potion to escape her family, and Romeo didn't know… No, this is far too complicated. We'll worry about it later…"  
"This is murder! Murder!"  
He jumped up, swaying under wave after wave of white hot rage, and pulled the friar away from Romeo with all his force, but Benvolio held him back and he fell on his knees, panting furiously. "This is a Capulet trick and he's a Capulet catspaw. How do we know he's not here to finish the job?" 

He wrenched the dagger from his belt. The bastard was unphased - the countenance of a cold blooded mercenary and not a holy man, clearly. This was such a Capulet plan, he knew them well - it would have been too easy to stab him in the streets and little did it matter if Tybalt had to die for that lost fight, poor silly little knight Tybalt, they needed to break his mind and drive him to kill himself, to die writhing in his arms. This was their way.  
He screamed and lunged again, but this time it was the Friar that stopped his wrist with surprising force. 

"Foolhardy children, all of you! I made the mistake of trusting any of you all for the last time. I married these two to bring peace between their houses and this is the result. Now tell me, since you know so much, was it my marriage that brought to this? Or an exile to avenge a boy who it turns out isn't even dead?"  
Mercutio held his glare, somehow, fuming with anger and shame." He told you everything" he spat out "in confession, even things he would never even tell us. He trusted you so much. How could you do this to him, even if you didn't know? Led him straight in the jaws of a Capulet?"  
The old man let his dagger drop and turned his face to Mercutio - not in anger or reproach, infuriatingly, but with the barest hint of a smile on his face.  
"I didn't need to lead him anywhere: he fell in love. He called you his brother: can you not understand that in your heart?"  
"Love!" Mercutio shrieked. "You call this love! How can a little Capulet snake love him?" _He's so good, so much purer than them, so much sweeter than anyone here, how could it come to this?_  
He was about to leap up again Benvolio put his hand on his shoulder and coldly said "Be more grateful, Merc, have some respect" without any conviction at all. He knew he agreed with him on this point and was just trying to make him calm down, and he also knew that Romeo was still alive and unharmed by whatever potion the friar had given him, that his was far more convoluted than any reasonable plan should be and, moreover, the old man had made absolutely no comment as to how he was still alive and why no one was being told. His hands itched - he wanted to have someone to hurt for this so badly. Romeo had at least avenged him. Why could he not avenge him back, if he clearly couldn't save him or even just comfort him in any way? 

He shrugged off Benvolio' restraining arm and huddled next to Romeo, stroking his sweat drenched hair away from his face. If he hadn't been affected at all by his screaming, probably the calming potion had had full effect and they could leave soon, take him away from this dark, chilly grave. He heard Benvolio ask the friar if he could have a look at this wound, he assumed to stir his sense of Christian forgiveness and maybe blame his outburst on imaginary fever-addled ravings, but Mercutio was not in the mood to be pitied.  
He waited for him to instruct them on how to give Romeo a temporary medicine until he could find the antidote and then they left, carrying Romeo out.  
Before they climbed on their horses, Benvolio asked if he wanted him to take Romeo for the journey, but the look on his face was enough to make him retreat uneasily. 

He felt bad, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't let him go. He took a while to get the hang of how to hold him, fidgeting and shifting to make him as comfortable as possible, but in the end he managed to lay him in his lap, an arm draped across his back to hold him up and keep the cloak in place, his head tucked over his shoulder so he could feel his warm breath on his neck.

The Friar led them to a small village and a country house in the vicinity of the abbey, and then they were left alone. They were so tired by then it felt like walking in a nightmare, but they lit their torches and laid Romeo down in the main bedroom. They stripped him to just his under breaches, drew up some water from the well and cleaned the sweat and dust of the road from his face and chest. There were bloodstains on his shirt.  
"What do you think happened?" Benvolio asked, fragile and small, tracing the fresher bruises on his chest, but Mercutio found he really didn't care if he was so in his own head he had still the same shirt on from that wretched phony duel or if he had murdered his way here to Mantua. He couldn’t care about anything at all anymore.

The effects of the draught were starting to wear out. They bundled him tight in the blankets and wrapped his head in a soaked cloth to fight the rising fever, but they didn’t know what to do about the fits at all. He didn’t get as long or as bad a it had in the crypt - Mercutio was uncertain if he would have been able to witness that without fainting or running off screaming - but he could see clearly how painful every spasm was, how much it drained him every time he fell limp again.  
He held his hands, gently and loosely to avoid hurting him, Benvolio rubbed his temples in soothing circles and they both tried to talk to him in what was mostly a confused sequence of _It’s alright -you have to fight it - we’re here - everything’s going to be okay - we love you we love you we love you._ It was not clear if he heard anything. His eyes fluttered open a few times, almost completely black and a little clouded over, but when Mercutio cupped his cheek and tried to get his attention he didn’t seem to really see him - or rather he looked scared, almost like he had seen something else entirely - a monster? A murderer lunging at him with a knife? Or just Mercutio as he was the last time he had seen him, bloody, angry, laying insult after insult just to make his mummer’s farce more believable with Romeo’s tears?

Eventually Benvolio gave out, half-collapsing on the floor, leaning his head over the mattress, but Mercutio was as alert as if he had knives stuck in his palms and feet like a cheap, overtly gruesome crucifixion painting. He laid Benvolio out on the ground - he would definitely yell at him if he found out he took him in the other room, away from Romeo, and he didn’t feel safe putting him on the bed, even if he was a bit stiller by then. He curled up next to him, put an arm around his waist and tilted his head to face him. "You can't die on me, mh?" He whispered , although it felt horrifyingly loud in their bubble of silence. He stroked his face and kissed him over and over again, everywhere - just the contact of soft skin against skin, warm and hopefully soothing, nothing more, but he couldn't stop. "I saved you. I fucked up, I know, but we're here, we saved you. You just can't leave me now, I'll die without you."

He burst into tears and buried his face in Romeo's chest, until he didn't have words to cry anymore and Romeo stopped trashing and the only sound to carry them through the end of night were his raucous sobs. Don't leave me, don't leave me don't leave me. 

***  
_  
Benvolio was reading under the pear tree when they vaulted over the wall into his garden - he just sighed and didn't lift his eyes from the book when Mercutio jumped and greeted him with an elaborate curtsey, but looked up, a little concerned when Romeo dropped in the grass, rolling around and howling with unrestrained glee.  
"Well? How did our heist go?" Romeo prodded him - he had just learned that word and felt it made their plans sound much more romantic.  
"Leave him be," Mercutio interrupted solemnly "we got caught. Don't you see the poor bunny is grounded?"  
"Studying is not punishment" Benvolio scolded him, although he did put down the book with a certain exuberance "As for the plan, Romeo, I didn't want to tell you, but you were really good."  
He snatched two pears from a low branch and threw them to the boys, ignoring Romeo's indignant "Why wouldn't you want to tell us?"  
"You were so convincing honestly I almost forgot it was you. Great noises. Although, Mercutio, you broke my window, we had agreed on no throwing rocks."  
Mercutio shrugged "I won't apologize for greatness."  
"And the glove? Did it work?" Romeo asked anxiously, for he was very proud of that idea and had been responsible for artistically arranging the red leather glove in the ivy under Benvolio's window to make it look like it had been lost in the climb.  
"Yes, I have to apologize for doubting you, really. Mom passed it around to the whole family and no one realized it was a child glove."  
"Because Tybalt has the hands of a blacksmith" Mercutio offered, flexing his experienced thief's fingers "And then? This mystery is killing me."  
"Well, I went out in the street with my dad to look for the intruders and I sent him in the wrong direction, we went home, I had chamomile tea to calm down and then I made a calm and well-reasoned speech to explain that in these conditions it's really hard for a boy to grow up into a brave man able to protect his family, that my nerves are all wracked and I can't sleep and I would feel so much readier to face the challenges of life if I had the comfort of a guard dog I raised myself since it was tiny."  
Romeo bounced excitedly, looking at his cousin with admiration. Mercutio was unimpressed.  
"But did you cry?"  
Benvolio grimaced. "We're not babes in arms. We have words to explain what we need."  
"Pussy talk. You should have cried."  
Romeo giggled as Benvolio turned bright red. "Yeah? You're one to talk."  
"I'm smarter than you. I know pretend-crying doesn't count."  
That was true, at least. Mercutio pretend-cried quite often, generally to coax hugs and caresses from Romeo and Benvolio and then tease them about it a few hours later when he owned up it was all a trick.  
"Whatever. I know how to act scared."  
"That's for sure." Mercutio mumbled in Romeo's ear, definitely loud enough for Benvolio to hear too. Romeo clasped his hand over his mouth, but still doubled over with silent giggles until he pressed his forehead on the grass. He straightened up when Benvolio looked at them disapprovingly.  
"Well? Are you getting a puppy then?"  
Benvolio bit his lip. "For now, I'm getting a knife under my pillow."  
Mercutio fell back laughing. Romeo let out a sympathetic oooh and dropped his head on Benvolio's shoulder. Benvolio smacked his cheek. "Now baby, some optimism. It's a step in the right direction."  
Mercutio pushed himself back up and tried vainly to put his words together into a question. Benvolio cut him off.  
"No, Cutio, you can't have the knife."  
Mercutio frowned. "I need it more than you"  
"For what?"  
"For honor! Many men aspire to soil my honor, my sweet sweet Volio, and you would leave me unable to defend myself?"  
That was a low blow, for whenever Mercutio talked fancy and used that nickname Benvolio tended to go scarlet red and suffer a distinct lack of calm and well-reasoned words. "Mh, I do suppose I don't actually have any Capulets coming through my window…"  
"That just means he needs it to show off his tricks and play darts with apples" Romeo rescued him, gaining a sideways glance from Mercutio.  
"Oh, I don't need it? I'll show you if I do, I'll show you if I do."  
Mercutio shoved him in the grass. "You'll both see if I do." He was grinning ear to ear, but there was a feral glint in his eyes. His fingers dug in Romeo's bare shoulders and for a moment he couldn't tell if the stickiness was pear juice or blood. He closed his eyes against the violent sunlight. It was getting a bit too hot to breathe.  
"But you will never see, will you? The years will pass and the fights will go on and on and you'll still think I'm talking nonsense, all of you."  
His lips brushed against his ear as he whispered, his voice fading in the veil between dream and wake "Or why would you have gotten between us?" _

A little before noon, while Benvolio was downstairs trying to put together something to eat and Mercutio sat in the bedroom making cool compresses and feebly clinging to his withering optimism, Romeo opened his eyes. Mercutio yelped loudly and cupped his cheek, but all his words failed him for a moment and he could only stare longingly at him, waiting for any reaction that could show he would be alright, didn't mortally hate him and overall everything would go back to how it used to be. Unfortunately, Romeo just winced and shifted away from the light of the open window. He dipped the cloth in basin again, and placed it back on his forehead, a little lower than before to shield his eyes, cleared his throat and started saying something - _it's okay or I'm here with you,_ really fucking comforting - but right then Benvolio ran into the room, all but jumping on the bed. 

He looked at the both of them in bewilderment for a few seconds, then smiled and put his hand on Romeo's other cheek. "How are you feeling, baby?"  
Romeo squinted up at them under the cloth and Mercutio thought of how absurd this all had to be for him, feverish and confused as he was, looking at a ghost and a runaway with their eyes circled black and hair sticking everywhere looming over him like birds of ill omen, and a little giggle escaped his control.  
Almost like that popped the strange bubble of silence they were floating in, Romeo burst into tears, grabbing Mercutio's wrist and returning to hide his face in his palm, his shoulders trembling with the effort. "Just stay this time" 

Benvolio shot him a look, biting his lip uncertainly, then he leaned over Romeo and brushed his hair back in a soft, hesitant gesture. "It's okay, baby, we're all together now. We can talk when you feel better." He looked up again, maybe for Mercutio's approval, as if he even remotely knew what they were doing. He was starting to tear up to, he noticed with a certain horror. "Mh-mh. You'll be just fine soon. Just let me go grab you some water and then we're going to stay as much as you want and- cuddle and- a-all that" 

He kissed Romeo's cheek and dashed out of the room before Mercutio could point out they had a pitcher there.  
He sighed. "Well, you know Benny. He just needs a moment to make peace with the fact he can't fix everything, he'll be back soon - but you don't need my ramblings right now, or - honestly ever. Really, how are you?"  
He laid next to him and wrapped his arm around his waist. Romeo frowned and stared at him intently. "I didn't think you'd be here too" 

He smiled slightly as he said that, but then he looked down, almost guilty. Mercutio raised his eyebrows - he was aware he was not exactly the first person anyone would want to take care of them or console them, but he always thought Romeo knew he could rely on him. On his best efforts at least.  
"Why wouldn't I? I was so worried, do you really think I'd leave you to suffer alone?" He felt a little pang of guilt at that, but tried to keep the reassuring smile on - it wasn't like they could have known that. "I never wanted that." 

Romeo shook his head, so frustrated he looked like he might cry again. "But you're so good. You saved me and you died for me"  
He almost sounded angry more than sad or tired now - his fingers tightening possessively around his wrist.  
"Well, I wouldn't exactly say I died for you now, can I?" He tried to joke, although his voice completely deserted him. "I'm sorry, Meow-Meow, I really am, but you just said it: if you think I'd jump in front of a blade for you, why would I ever leave you now?" 

Romeo opened his mouth to speak, but only a frustrated sigh came out. He frowned, either thinking furiously or, as Mercutio's mind often helpfully suggested, casting a curse on him for abandoning in the moment he needed him the most, but putting whatever distressed him in words had to be too taxing, for he just burrowed into Mercutio's arms, tucking his head over his shoulder. Mercutio winced - he could feel the heat through the linen of his shirt. "You should probably have that water." 

Romeo seemed extremely unenthusiastic to move from the position he was in, so he held the glass from him, supported him as he drank and rubbed his temples when the effort of sitting upright made him dizzy. He had no idea if that helped in the slightest, but Romeo did at least look a little more relaxed - he wasn't crying or complaining, which was a lot for him even in better circumstances, and his face had softened up at his touch. He was so much clingier than normal, he had noticed, his hands running all over Mercutio's bare arms and face as if every remaining little scrap of his energy was devoted to that - seeking his warmth, most likely, or maybe he could not believe he was alive. 

He shouldn't be so relieved at his lack of questions about that. He knew this lack of reaction was worrying, that he had struggled to put together simple answers to his and Benvolio's questions, let alone dive into a conversation of that kind and all that just couldn't be good. But the thought of dragging him through the details of their ramshackle plans and cheerfully owning up how ready they had been to go behind his back - when they'd always told each other everything - made him sick. Of course Romeo was no innocent little lamb when it came to that, as it had turned out, but still he had never gone as far as to plan to abandon them.

"Mh… Merc?" Romeo slurred, drumming his fingers on his wrist to catch his attention. "Why can't Ben stay here again?"  
He tilted his head in confusion. "Of course he can, he just-"  
He stopped, biting his lip. Even if he didn't know exactly what was going on in his head, he doubted there was anything that would be improved by telling him Benvolio had run off crying just at the sight of him.  
"Well, would you like me to go call him?"  
He cringed at how feeble and whispery his own voice felt - as if Romeo was so fragile right now he could shatter him with the slightest disturbance.  
Romeo sniffled and nodded, that little look of guilt still in his eyes. Mercutio caressed his face as if vaguely expecting it would erase that before he left. 

He found Benvolio curled up by the fireplace, mostly calmed down but still a little teary eyed and on edge - at least based on how he jumped as if he had just pointed a knife at him when he touched his shoulder.  
"Hey, are you-"  
"Did you leave Romeo alone?"  
Mercutio crossed his arms defensively. "He asked me to come get you, he was fine with it. Do you really think I'd just up and leave him?"  
Benvolio looked down, the flicker of guilt that always turned up when he raised his voice veiling his eyes, and Mercutio remembered uncomfortably how alike he and Romeo were, no matter how often they both went out of their way to feign the opposite. 

"I'm sorry." He turned around, pulling a small pot from the dying embers. "It's just… He was always so sensitive, and now he thought he had lost us. He needs us so much, and if we aren't there when he does I'm scared he will never feel completely safe again and he will not heal."  
He stirred honey into the chamomile, avoiding Mercutio's glance. His hands were shaking so badly that when Mercutio caressed his knuckles he almost sent the whole thing flying on the other corner of the room. He tried again. "Well, are you alright now? Would you mayhaps want to share what the fuck got into you? " 

He said it as lightly as he physically could, but Benvolio still recoiled back like he had punched him.  
"I was scared" he admitted, biting his lip "I don't know how to talk to him. He was so shocked to see us, so happy. How are we going to explain this is all our fault? It will break his heart."  
Mercutio shrugged off a certain feeling of dread those words inspired him. "I think his heart has to be already broken for all this, don’t you?” He ignored Benvolio’s glare. “And who could better mend it than us, -”  
“The ones who broke it?”  
He sighed. “His best friends. But actually, you’re right, who could better mend his heart than the ones who broke it? See, you are already more optimistic.”  
Benvolio flushed - that is, turned a slightly warmer shade of greenish-pale. “That doesn’t flow logically all that much to me, but… we’ll surely have to try.” He poured a little of Friar Lawrence’s antidote into his spoon and dosed it into the cup, drop by drop, his eyebrows tightening with concentration. “And anyway, I presume we can wait until he’s doing better before we take away whatever sense of safety and trust in us he has left.”

“I mean, do we even really have to tell him? He has absolutely no questions as to why I’m alive and well and you’re here too and how the fuck we found him. He’s just happy, that’s good for him.”  
He looked tempted for a split second, but shook his head “No, we have to at some point. Not now, because he definitely can’t take it and I can‘t take talking about it either, to be honest, but we can’t just leave him out of reality forever.”  
Mercutio huffed dramatically and rolled his eyes to hide his disappointment. “It worked out for him well enough for the past sixteen years.”  
Benvolio swatted him with the spoon. “You jerk. Insult him when he can defend himself!”  
Mercutio took in with pride the guilty flash of laughter in his eyes and smiled to himself. “Come on, come on” he said, chivalrously wrapping his arm around Benvolio’s shoulder. “I told him I was going to look for you, not fuck around as usual. We’ll figure it out as we go.”  
“Classic Mercutio plan” Benvolio huffed, a little nervously, but he took the cup and followed him with resignation. 

Romeo had curled on himself and bundled up so tightly in the blanket he was barely visible when they came in. Benvolio carefully peeled it back and just stroked his hair in silence for a while, until Romeo threw a glance at him and reached for his hand. Benvolio humored him and rubbed his thumb over the back of his hand in soothing circles, kneeling down to better meet his eyes.  
"This is so awful, Benny" Romeo mumbled, "I didn't think it would… that this was how…"  
He interrupted himself as Benvolio and Mercutio stared at him in confusion. "Don't you need to lie down too?" 

Benvolio frowned and looked at Mercutio for help again, but he didn't know what to say. He giggled hesitantly, then kissed Romeo on the forehead.  
"Well, aren't you sweet?" Benvolio said cheerfully, fixing the pillow behind Romeo's back so he was half-sitting. "I'm fine, I'm just so worried for you, Ro. You scared us, you-"  
He stopped in his tracks, clearly deciding it was far too soon to acknowledge what happened in the slightest. "Well, I brought you a little thing to calm you down. Can you drink?" 

He held the cup to Romeo's lips and he took a slow sip, then smiled uncertainly. "It gets better then? It got better for you?"  
"Well…"  
He gestured very unsubtly in Mercutio's direction, eyes starting to ball up with panic. Mercutio felt he knew even less than him what the fuck he meant, but made an attempt.  
"Of course, of course it gets better, you silly goose." He proclaimed, sitting on the other side of the bed. He supposed there was no point confusing him any further asking him questions. "That's what we're here for, aren't we?" 

Romeo's face had another of those unexplained changes then, growing solemn and a little melancholy, but he drank a little more as Benvolio hummed encouragingly and stroked his hair.  
He had gotten almost halfway through when he doubled over, shivers going down his spine as he reached frantically for Mercutio's hand. Benvolio pulled him off the bed before he could find it, holding him steady on his knees as he vomited in the bucket.  
"Fuck, fuck, I'm sorry, baby."  
Romeo crossed his arms over his stomach and slumped like a wilting flower, his head hanging when Benvolio held his arms firmly around his waist to try keeping him up. 

Mercutio leapt over the bed and gently lifted his chin with one hand, his other one grasping Benvolio's before he could freak out completely. Romeo's eyes were half-open, drifting slightly, his skin almost painful to touch.  
"Romeo, Romeo, are you with me? Why the fuck is this only making it worse?"  
Benvolio jumped and whimpered at his barking, but Romeo didn't react at all. Mercutio splashed a little water on his face and tried to get him to drink a little to wash the bad taste away, if nothing else, but he only succeeded in making him cough and tear up.  
"The fucking priest told me it would make him nauseous, that this can't do more than help him get the poison out and he needs a real antidote, but- fuck, I didn't think it would be so bad. I'm sorry, baby, I wasn't lying again, I really thought it would make it better-" 

Mercutio shushed him, softly drumming his fingertips on his lips. There was no eye roll, no sarcastic comments on how the tables had turned. Slowly he let Romeo lean his head on his shoulder and they tucked him in bed, letting out sighs of relief when he snapped out of his trance enough to close his eyes, adjust and groan softly when they moved him. Benvolio curled next to him, rubbed his stomach a little and ran the wet cloth down his face to wipe the sweat away.  
Romeo's face was very soft and sweet now, showing no pain, and Mercutio took in the resemblance once again when Benvolio bent down to kiss him.  
"Try to sleep a little. This must be very tiring for you, and you need all your strength to fight, and stay alive. Can you do this for me?" 

Romeo stiffened and opened his eyes with a struggle, gasping in fear. "Just let me stay with you" he begged, drawing the you out like a child whining.  
Mercutio gently took his hand and tried to smile. "Exactly, yes, stay with us. That's all you have to do."  
Benvolio nodded frantically, rubbing his eyes. "Yes. We'll be here when you wake up, you just have to really try to be strong. Promise?"  
Romeo's face scrunched in anguish, but he nodded.  
Benvolio kissed both his cheeks and laid beside him, Mercutio sat up and rubbed circles in his palm until he drifted off. His sleep was only peaceful for a short while, fitful and intermittent, but it was the best they could do with nothing to give him for the pain and they tried to stay hopeful. 

Night and day shifted places like dancers, so dizzily at some point they just ended up ignoring them entirely. They tried to get Romeo to eat something again - a tiny orange slice, really mostly juice, a spoonful of honey, a cup of ginger tea in case it was the chamomile that disagreed with him - but he couldn't keep anything down. He didn't completely lose consciousness this time around, but he was so nauseous and pained Mercutio wasn't sure how good that even was. At some point he bent down over the bucket after just a cup of water and Mercutio only realized he had put his fist through the wood panels of the window when he stroked Romeo's hair and blood dribbled on the sheet. 

That sent Romeo into a sobbing fit and Benvolio screamed at him until he was hoarse and Mercutio, reaching peaks of shame he had never before touched in a life quite fertile for that, ran off in the courtyard to draw up water from the well and kick the stones until his feet went numb. Benvolio came down to call him back, with a smile that didn't reach his tired eyes, and distractedly fiddled with something in the kitchen as Mercutio went up the stairs, but as soon as he thought he had turned around he just curled up on the fireplace and buried his face in his hands. Mercutio did his best to ignore that and remind himself that this was supposed to be what he always wanted and there was no reason why they should start being open about their feelings now.  
Romeo was quiet again, curled in a ball, a little pouty, but calm and mostly lucid which felt like the most he could possibly hope for.  
Mercutio cleared his throat as he sat next to him, hoping he looked less of a bedraggled mess than he felt. 

"I'm sorry I keep freaking you out."  
Romeo didn't respond, so he nuzzled a little against him, trying to smile. "You poor little scaredy kitten. I really should be nicer."  
He hated how hollow and sarcastic his words felt, that he couldn't manage to sound sweet and tender and concerned enough to be of comfort for anyone. That all he had to give was this whirlwind of rage consuming him.  
Romeo looked at him in the corner of his eye and pressed his lips in a very stern line. "I thought Tybalt was supposed to be your kitten. You didn't call me that in ages."

"What, you're mad at me now?"  
He changed the puzzlement on his face into an overdramatic scowl and tickled him softly. "You try to keep up, sweetheart, Tybalt is the prince of cats, remember? Prissy old tomcat all high and mighty on his throne of gutted pillows with fish stink under his nose. You're the only sweet kitten I know. Moreover, he did stab me. That would take his kitten privileges for at least a while don't you think?"  
Romeo giggled into his shoulder - purring, his brain unhelpfully supplied - and Mercutio felt a little relieved he could at least still accomplish that. Not to mention ignore how he had spoken of Tybalt in the present. 

"That's mean, but true. As usual." Romeo drawled out, snuggling tighter against him. "Poor Tybalt. Tell me, is he around here too?"  
Mercutio froze. Romeo's eyes were fixed on him with unusual attention, very blue and clear, and it was hard to remember how out of it he still was until something burst the bubble. He choked back a sigh and ran his finger down Romeo's face, softly tapping the tip of his nose.  
"No, he's… well, in a better place now, remember? It's the girl who's still -"  
He fell silent. Better not to put too much information in one go.  
Romeo raised his eyebrows, then looked down with a sigh, his shoulders trembling. "Yes, a better place than this. I suppose in the end he never killed anyone, did he?" 

He started giggling again, more high-pitched, half hysterical - the best replacement for crying when he didn't have a drop of water of waste in his whole body, Mercutio thought helplessly as he patted his shoulder and stroked his hair without any clear direction.  
"Shush, shush now, Meow Meow, Volio is going to kill me if he sees I upset you again, and you don't want me on your conscience, do you?"  
He cringed, cursing his choice of words, then desperately tilted Romeo's face up to look in his eyes and pressed his palm against his lips.  
"You're talking about nothing." Romeo shrieked and kicked the sheets with a frustrated grunt. Mercutio cupped his cheek with his other hand and kissed his burning forehead, trying to let all his love go through that gesture the way Romeo always did, to make him feel as safe. "Nothing, nothing, nothing, shit-fuck-all. You're having a shit dream, and now it's a pretty boring one too, after all the fun dueling it started with, only you could ruin it this way. You drank too much and went to bed dreaming of your Rosaline's rosy peaches and now you're all rattled, but you're talking of nothing at all. You'll wake up tomorrow in your own bed and we'll all go swim in the river and surely the frogs are better dancers and the crickets are better music than you'd find at a fucking Capulet party, isn't it? Volio will piss himself laughing when you tell him you dreamed him having such a bad idea. But now you have to sleep and quit being such a fussy baby, is that alright?“

He doubted, somehow, that this was the best thing he could have done and that Benvolio would not, in fact, indulge in a very uncharacteristic act of violence if he was awake to witness this, but at least Romeo was clearly in no condition to follow his ramblings and think about Tybalt's tragic fate and shining innocence at the same time. He went still and made a soft sound of pleasure as Mercutio dipped the cloth in the water, brushed his temples and laid it open over his chest.  
He could feel his heart flutter against his palm like a scared baby bird.  
Romeo smiled and opened his eyes to stare at him with remarkable focus for someone currently struggling to remain conscious longer than two hours, and when Mercutio was about to ask if he had grown significantly uglier overnight, he suddenly pushed himself up on his elbow and kissed him on the corner of his mouth. 

Mercutio raised his eyebrows. "Well?"  
Romeo shrugged and giggled. He put a hand on the back of his head and tried to slowly lay him down. Romeo resisted, lifting his arms around Mercutio's neck and dropping his head on his shoulder, but the effort made him dizzy and he let go with a huff, just leaning against his chest.  
Mercutio sighed and tried to maneuver him back under the blanket "See? You're getting cocky. You'll get an headache if you don't lie down and-"  
He interrupted himself as Benvolio opened the door, taking a sharp alarmed breath when he took in their tangled up position, all but threw his tray on a chair and leapt on the bed, taking Romeo's face in his hands.  
"I'm so tired, I don't think it's time to wake up yet" Romeo mumbled and Benvolio looked at Mercutio in confusion, but he seemed convinced enough that he was not convulsing or gone completely mad. 

"You do need rest, baby, we're going to leave you be for a while now" he said hesitantly, adjusting the pillow under him "Are you feeling better?"  
He looked vaguely guilty, as if the half hour he had been downstairs had seen significant changes and Romeo hadn't been talking vague and scattered only-technically-not-nonsense for the past two days.  
"He's just a bit confused." Mercutio said quickly, pointedly ignoring the heat going up his cheeks. 

Benvolio made a sympathetic noise and pouted, brushing a stray curl away from Romeo's face. "Poor little thing. What's confusing you? "  
Romeo's eyes were visibly starting to drift, but he made an effort. "We were talking about Tybalt…"  
"Him again?" Benvolio scoffed. "I don't know what's gotten into you two, I thought I was the paranoid one. Tybalt can't hurt you anymore, nor has he any reason to haunt you or feel any grievance against you when he was the one to challenge you, nor will anyone try to avenge him, for no one knows where you are. You're safe and sound. "  
If Mercutio’s presence seemed to rile him up and fill him with all sorts of uncomfortable and distressing feelings, when Benvolio spoke Romeo was as quiet and docile as the little boy they would convince the owl squeaks they heard in the night were the big bad wolf coming to take him away. He probably did need that more right now.  
His deep frown had relaxed at Benvolio's caresses and his eyes were half closed when he whispered "We had to leave for a while, but now we're back and we'll take care of you. It turned out Cutio really had just got an ugly scratch, he got better and so will you. Your little Capulet girl is alive, she just had a sleeping potion, and that friar of yours is looking after her. In a few days he'll bring you an antidote and you'll meet again. We'll figure out what to do then. There's absolutely nothing to worry about."

Romeo closed his eyes, a little smile blooming on his face. He mumbled something, trying to find the words.  
"I'm sorry, but I'm so happy you're here."  
"That's… Mh-mh." Benvolio nodded, playing nervously with Romeo's hand. "We're also very happy we're here."  
"What"  
Benvolio threw him a killing glance. Mercutio had to press both his hands over his mouth to avoid ruining the mood irremediably.  
"And of course, that you're still here. With us."  
He put his hand on Benvolio's shoulder to stop him before he went too far and burst into tears. Benvolio shivered violently and gave him another rather strange look, but still he stopped, rubbed his eyes and gently kissed Romeo's palm before letting him go.  
"You keep us getting us to talk too much. It's not good for you. Just try to sleep." 

Romeo drifted off peacefully - being probably still too out of it to pick up on their increasing panic enough to be distressed. They ate huddled together on the floor and went anxiously through the motions of cuddling and kissing, jumping every time Romeo moved or complained in his sleep, until Benvolio just stepped away and pulled him down in his lap, too tired to even try ordering him around. The sun either rose or set and he slept a little, tossing and turning like an old murderer lying over his bounty. While he knew they needed to take turns sleeping and stay vigilant, his dreaming brain was so disturbed by the lack of Benvolio in his arms that Queen Mab just washed her hands of him and he saw or heard nothing but Romeo's muffled cries - for help, for his mother, for God, for Juli, and he thought he heard him say his name too, but that was just the tiniest seed of a nightmare he was too numb to let bloom. He could not imagine, after everything, that he was someone Romeo could expect all this help from. 

He was woken by a thumping up the stairs and then Benvolio furiously shaking his shoulder.  
"What's wrong?" he asked, peaking blearily at his wild, pale face.  
"The friar won't come." Benvolio's hands shook against his skin.  
"What?"  
"He won't come with the antidote. They caught him while he tried to leave town with the girl and he was arrested for kidnapping or corruption or something. We're on our own."  
Mercutio sank slowly, hiding his face in his hands. "How can this be?" He tried to think of what would happen now, but his mind spun on itself like a broken wheel. It couldn't be Romeo would still die when they had been so lucky to find him in time, could he?  
"How?" Benvolio snapped, jumping back on his feet. He went to Romeo's side and took his hand into his, grasping his wrist. "How can it be, that marrying two spoiled children just for the fun of meddling in things out of your understanding and giving them poisons to play with didn't turn out to be a good idea? What a riddle! Don't you usually have answers for these?" 

Mercutio winced." You'll wake him up."  
"Nothing will wake him up. See, he's gotten quiet. He doesn't even have the strength to toss and turn."  
He bit his lip and looked back at Mercutio, his voice softening. "Come here."  
He pulled the blanket back by a few inches - Romeo shivered when cool air crept under it - and placed Mercutio's hand on his neck, just over his pulse.  
He flinched away as if touching hot metal.  
"He's getting worse."  
"Yes"  
Benvolio tucked the blanket tight around his shoulders and sighed when Mercutio handed him another compress from the basin.  
"This isn't enough. He needs to be bathed in ice or something, but it will be painful for him and of course, we don't have it in us to make him suffer. We're not healers and we're not used to this, but we'll have to learn."  
He wrapped his arms around Mercutio just long enough to choke a sob in his shoulder, then wet Romeo's lips and stroked his hair away from his forehead. His hands were trembling. "We'll manage, somehow. We've gotten in this situation and we will get out."  
There was a trace of pure loathing in his voice that no kisses or caresses could erase from Mercutio's mind. 


	2. Chapter 2

_  
The Capulets were a proud and rich family, and all of them were clever and beautiful and aware of their value, but they were not happy, because they had no children. When at last their little daughter was born they invited their friends all the way from Mantua to Venice, and all the fairies of the kingdom came too._

_The part of Romeo that still clung to reality was almost expect to see four-year-old Mercutio run off from his mother's skirts and sneak him to steal sweets in the kitchens at any moments, so much he felt like he was floating in Mercutio's imagination. The fairies chattered and danced upon the marble floor, clusters of ripe fruit growing from their breasts, swarms of tiny butterflies circling in the blue of their eyes, scales and fawn spots on their wine-scented skin.  
They all had gift for the newborn lady of the house - she would be able to invent poetry on the spot, measuring syllables and picking rhymes and all as effortlessly as birds warble, to lie with her face as unchanging as ice, to dance dusk to dawn without ever stopping and still have breath for a kiss, to make flowers and herbs grow with just a tender glance of her dark eyes. To be unafraid of the darkness, of heights, of blades, of the disapproval of those she loved, of the mortifying humiliation of opening her heart and finding it unloved, over and over again.  
There was no need to gift her beauty or intelligence or a gentle heart, for it was plain to see in her eyes, and everything was beautiful and sweet.  
But when the sixth fairy stepped up from the shadows - a man in shimmering black robes, hair hanging heavy down his back like molten silver, black painted eyes - his words were terrible "So be it: she will be beautiful and sweet and everyone will love her, but she will not be happy. She will drink the poison willingly before her fourteenth birthday comes."  
Screams, clamor, soft muffled sobs.  
The seventh fairy - strawberry hair, pink dress speckled with stardust - smiled melancholy as she approached the red-and-gold cradle. "I would have given her wisdom, but that might be little use for a girl anyway. Fear not: she will not die, but fall in a deep sleep, and only the kiss of a good and gentle youth who loves her will awake her."  
There were eyelids were rose petals, her fingers beams of rosy dawn light, and Romeo felt it come through his heart like nothing ever had before. _

_There was darkness, and it was hot. Romeo saw his rival running past him, and in the darkness his bouquet of lilies - Juliet could not stand white flowers - shone like a scythe and his purple silk cloak like the robe of the reaper.  
It was sultry, humid, hot, there were thorny branches holding him back - thorns, ropes, well-meaning hands.  
He fell on his knees and crawled to the sleeping marble crypt where Juliet was lying, dew settling on the columns like sweat - oh it was so hot and sultry and someone was holding his hand, gentle and soft, but holding him back all the same like steel chains. He screamed himself hoarse - like a beast, yes, betraying his human frame and will and reason with womanish tears, as his rival jumped through the door and darkness faded into an even hotter, oppressive blue sky. _

_There was a wedding feast, and the torches were burning high to the ceiling, the scent of the flowers turned his stomach. Juliet was clad in white, white for death, with golden chains on her wrists and a single Capulet rose on her bosom - but on their wedding, the real one, her dress was between pink and red, the color of an excited sigh, a blushing pilgrim, and she had daisies and rosemary twigs from her balcony in her hair.  
They locked eyes as she walked to the bed chamber. Their hands brushed. "I'm sorry I was too late."  
Juliet looked at him with indifferent eyes. "I'm prepared for this. Try not to feel too guilty, there's nothing you could have done. Words are funny like that - it says nowhere I have to love my savior, just that he must be a good and gentle youth. You're an old murderer now. Try to accept that." _

They laid with Romeo as long as the peace lasted, each holding his hand like a group of lost children in the woods.  
At some point Mercutio felt him stiffen and pull his hand insistently, gasping in his sleep. They rose on their knees and braced for the spasms to start, but Romeo just screamed Juliet's name and sat up abruptly, his face twisted with terror.  
His hand clenched around Mercutio's so tight it hurt, but he let go of Benvolio's to wipe his nonexistent tears, and so Benvolio could wrap his arms around him and rub his back as he rambled. "I need to go back and take her. The wedding night is about to start and no one knows, no one will save her and she has a knife under her pillow and I can't let her do this-"  
Softly, Mercutio lifted his chin with his other hand and kissed his cheek. "We're here, it's alright. Just… another bad dream"  
Romeo glanced from him to Benvolio, horrorstruck, then he pushed Mercutio away too and buried his face in his hands. “No, no, nonononono-”  
His fingers trembled. He was struggling to breathe and kept trying to look up and then hiding his face again “- so fucking stupid…”

“We already knew” Benvolio said, and before Mercutio could point out that wasn’t very nice to say right then and he was disappointed in him, he elaborated “We know you’re married, we’re not angry.”  
Romeo mumbled something unintelligible, but quite angry sounding against his palms. Mercutio wanted to pull him in his arms, or at least touch his shoulder, but he had no idea how well that would be received and suspected he’d faint or throw up if he was distressed even a little further, so he just let Benvolio pile up his words between them like a cross at an exorcism, his initially tender tones growing hysterical.  
“Juliet is alive and safe, Friar Lawrence will look after her, you’ll see her again soon when you’re feeling better, we’re here with you, we’ll take care of you, there’s absolutely nothing to worry about-”  
“Stop lying to me!”  
Benvolio recoiled back violently. Romeo managed to hold his glance for a seconds before he curled on himself again, but he kept talking, his cries high pitched and crystal clear against his confused mumblings. “Lying is a sin and you are here for redemption and either we all go to heaven or no one does, if this is really purgatory and you’re not lying about this too.”

He stretched his hand out to touch Benvolio’s hair, and it visibly took such an effort that Mercutio couldn’t stop from edging closer and putting his hand on his back. Romeo didn’t lean against him - he didn’t seem to notice him at all. “You’re all wet” he stated “Can a soul be wet?”  
“Well, it’s bloody hot in here” Mercutio started with the vague hope of distracting him, but all he got was a faintly bewildered look from Benvolio.  
“A ghost can, maybe. You jumped in the river, didn’t you?”  
Mercutio felt cold dread run through his veins. Benvolio had told his uncle he had leapt in the river in a last mad gesture of defiance to justify the lack of a body, but he hadn't thought the prince would let such a shameful tale be spread. And what had Benvolio to do with it? “No shit he did” He latched on, desperately. “I had told you we’d go swim today, didn’t I? Did you bang your head on a rock, you clumsy little kitt-”  
“Yes, you just came back to tell me and then you jumped in the river. How-how ve-ve-very romantic is that. Why are you ashamed to tell me? We’ve both died for love now.” Somehow his eyes smiled a little at that - that bashful little boy Romeo again who was so easily won over with neatly wrapped up tales of love and brotherhood. “You can keep acting smarter, though pride is a sin too, but you don’t have any grounds to scold me now.” 

Benvolio was pale and confused and he had teared up a little, but when he spoke again his voice was cold. "Well, you've been lying too. You said you were happy I was here, last night, but you're angry at me instead. You should not lie to your brothers."  
Romeo lowered his head in shame. "I can't even know if…"  
He trailed off. Mercutio opened his mouth to encourage him to go on, but stopped when his eyes started welling up with tears.  
Benvolio took his face in his hands, examining his cracked lips and red eyes. He kissed his forehead too, but Mercutio could not see any worry or relief on his face. "Do you think you could drink something? Just a little water, maybe?"  
Romeo shivered and shook his head, clearly nauseous at the thought. Benvolio gave him a little smack on the cheek that would have been sweet and affectionate if his eyes were not so distant. "Then you really can't afford to cry. It will make you sick." 

Romeo whimpered angrily, hiding his face against Mercutio's shoulder. Benvolio tilted his head critically and took Mercutio's hand from Romeo's back and arranged his arms so he was pretty much cradling him, although Romeo was still a little stiff despite his best attempts to make him lie down. "Well, hold him tighter, don't you see he needs it?" he whispered "I'll be back in a while. Try to calm down, both of you. Everything's alright and we're all together."

Mercutio had something bitter to say to that, but he did not bother to let the words align, focusing on Romeo's warm weight in his arms.  
He kept trying to speak, but he struggled to, or maybe he had realized Mercutio was panicking and Benvolio was quiet-angry and he didn't want to make things worse. He would, that would be like him enough.  
He managed to get as far as "I just wanted-", but he had a shivering fit when it was time to finish and Mercutio just stroked his hair, completely lost.  
He had shifted enough he could see his face - soft, sweet, pale, flushed cheeks sticking out like bloodstains - he was overwhelmed with pain, groaning softly and too worn out from yelling at Benvolio to try being difficult with him too.  
Mercutio didn't know if that was why he was so awkward about holding him - it had been easier in the crypt and even later in the bedroom, when he was mostly unconscious and Benvolio wasn't there, but he didn't think it was as silly as just being embarrassed, or at least he hoped for some more bravery form himself.  
But he felt exposed and vulnerable, and felt terribly guilty for how exposed and vulnerable he was forcing Romeo to be, even telling himself that this wasn't such a problem for him and holding him was supposed to make him feel safe. But even if Romeo seemed confused about how he ended up here and Mercutio himself kept forgetting pieces of it like an haphazardly-thrown together nightmare, he was aware there was no path to this situation that didn't start with Mercutio jumping in front of a blade, and it made it hard to even stand his glare. 

"I wanted us all to be together" Romeo mumbled again, frustration seeping in his voice.  
Mercutio blinked, startled. "We're together, you're safe" he repeated, trying to give it a cheerful lilt that ended up sounding far more sepulchral than Benvolio's neutral voice.  
Romeo shook his head. "Not like this. I had a dream…"  
He went quiet.  
Benvolio came in hauling a wooden tub and a bunch of spare blankets. He lifted the blanket to check on Romeo again, then turned to Mercutio with the smallest hint of a smile. "There's no ice room in this house, but I figure even just a nice cool bath could help. Won't do with much, but if we can at least get him out of this fever…"  
Mercutio nodded approvingly and wanted to ask if he needed help, but he found that now, instead, he could not let Romeo go. 

He wanted to ask what his dream had been, but he didn't know if it would rile him up again and Benvolio kept coming in and out with buckets of water and, though he seemed very satisfied with how he was holding Romeo and had calmed him down, Mercutio still had a feeling of wrongness about all this - like they were in a bubble too private for Benvolio or anyone to look into, and the last thing we wanted was to make thing even more weirdly intimate.  
So he kept quiet with heroic effort and just listened to Romeo's heartbeat and caressed his hair until Benvolio stopped and knelt beside them.  
"Are you ready, baby?" He asked softly, not particularly interested in the fact Romeo was pretty obviously elsewhere and didn't really know what he was talking about. When Romeo gave him no answer but a mildly scared and hostile glance, he kissed the tip of his nose and gestured to Mercutio to help him. 

It was hard at first; Romeo started trembling when they unwrapped him from the blanket and cried furiously for a few minutes once he was in the tub, hugging his knees and trembling, but after he settled in.  
Completely bared, he was visibly skinny and fragile, all the bruises of the recent fights starkly outlined on his pale chest. Mercutio couldn't look away.  
He sat by the tub, holding his hand for support and trying his best to look calm, reliable and reassuring, but he was on edge and kept sneaking glances, and it wasn't like Romeo wasn't noticing.  
He had expected he would swoon from the shock or slowly drift back to sleep, but the cold seemed to have cleared his head a bit instead; he sat up very straight, thought still curled up on himself, biting his lips bloody to stop his teeth from chattering.  
Benvolio tried to rub his shoulders and even sing to him a little - very softly and basically in his ear, since it embarrassed him for Mercutio to hear him, for some reason - to ease his nerves, but that only made him relax for a second before he snapped up again.  
After a while, they helped him out and Benvolio draped him in a blanket and vigorously rubbed him dry, holding him tight in his lap. He curled up and clung to him, reflexively, to fight the cold, but Benvolio seemed to take it as a good sign. 

He put his lips on Romeo's forehead, smiled approvingly and whispered something in his ear. Mercutio could see him stiffen up from where he was sitting on the floor, shifting away from Benvolio imperceptibly.  
Benvolio helped him back into bed and walked back to Mercutio, lips pressed together in a hard line.  
"Clearly he's scared of me and still thinks I want to deceive him. See if he trusts you a little more" he said, his voice a little strangled and out of place in his stony face.  
He walked out, and Mercutio hugged himself, suddenly feeling very cold. "Romeo" he called out, but his throat hurt from too much crying and only a faint little 'meo came out. 

"Meow meow" Romeo mumbled against the pillow with a certain sarcasm. Mercutio rolled his eyes as he poured some water and the drops of antidote in a cup.  
"Yes, what of it?"  
"You called me that, yest- mh… you called me that. You used to do it when we were babies. I don't think you'd do that now." 

Mercutio giggled as he handed him the cup, choosing to ignore the odd word choice. "Well, you're wrong and I'll call you as I please. I won't shut up for no man's pleasure, I"  
A shiver went down Romeo's spine. His fingers tightened around the cup, he looked at it with a mixture of disgust and dread, took a couple sips and let his hand fall, though so softly he didn't spill a drop. "This has to be hell, isn't it?"  
"What?"  
Romeo took a deep breath and continued. He was a little choked up - Mercutio had no idea where tears could keep coming from. "This has to be hell. You're not really here, that was stupid, wasn't it? I killed two people and you boys… no, you're not really here." 

"What? He seized his hand, scooting closer, wild eyed." Of course we're here. We'll take care of you. We-"  
"It's so cold and it all hurts so badly, I'm so tired and you…" He squeezed his hand, pressing the other one on his stomach, but it didn't bring him any comfort. "I know the devil takes people's faces, and maybe it's supposed to hurt more if it's my dear friends doing it, it may be. Friar Lawrence… He said we can't know what hell is like and Alighieri is just being presun-sup-presumptuous about it, and fanciful, and this is so much worse than drowning in the mud being buried in ice or growing inside a tree*. .."  
He groaned softly, bending over the bucket, but nothing came out but tears. "It hurts so much, but you feel so real, your hands are warm…"  
He pressed Mercutio's hand to his cheek and sobbed desperately.  
"Now to be fair, in my case that would only be more evidence witchcraft is in place." He smirked, then immediately cursed his wretched tongue for how out of place, stupid and maybe confusing that sounded. 

"But we're here, Meow Meow, we're here and alive, and I know you think it's our fault this happened, but we didn't mean it, we don't mean to hurt you either, we just want you to stay with us."  
Romeo's eyes shut painfully in concentration, his lower lip still trembling.  
"That… maybe it is why you call me that, it could… . It's a special secret between us, so I'll trust you, but it's a baby nickname and you - he, mh, Merc, didn't use to call me that anymore. Benny would call me baby, but not him…"  
He sagged back, completely worn out, pulling the blanket over his face. Mercutio wanted to peel it back, comfort him and kiss him so badly his hands itched painfully, but he knew it would only distress him more, and he just knelt for what felt like an hour on the bed, like a bird of ill omen, waiting for Romeo's breath to become deep and regular as he fell into a peaceful sleep and ease his guilt.

Eventually, he accepted he had fucked up too far and slowly dismounted, an hand pressed on his heart as if it would shatter and leak out otherwise. His hand hovered over Romeo's face, prepared to caress him and reassure him he would be back soon, but that was no kind of reassurance now and he just left the room, turning back at every step for any reaction that would require him to run back to him. 

Benvolio was turned back in the kitchen, making soup, and for some reason Mercutio thought he was crying and put his arms around his waist, but when he turned around his eyes were dry and impassible, as if his face had not changed at all since he left the room.  
"It's really that hard to understand that we should not leave him alone?" He snapped, shrugging Mercutio's arms away.  
Something that could optimistically be guilt flashed in his eyes, but his face did not change.  
Mercutio crossed his arms defensively. "It turns out he's scared of both of us now. Make of that what you will."  
"Why, what have you done?" 

Mercutio's fists tightened and itched, but there was nothing to justify that in Benvolio's voice - bland irritation at most. There was absolutely no reason to be angry at him and it sent the anger pulsating in his temples, spreading around him like a storm cloud.  
"Somehow, we've managed to make him think we're the servant of the devils making him pay for his murders, so there's that" he said flatly, his arms instinctively spreading a little as if inviting him to come and give all he had, all the scolding and insults and terrible, disappointed glances he could muster. 

Benvolio looked stricken for a few moments, then a corner of his mouth turned up a little, as if against his will. "Well, that's certainly new."  
He handed Mercutio the soup and brushed his fingers on his hand in the process and Mercutio just had to wonder if Benvolio's mood really hadn't changed at all and he was just imagining things from stress and sleeplessness.  
"He's just a bundle of guilt now, poor little thing. There's so much that went wrong in so little time, and he only did a little wrong but he blames himself for all of it. He must think we're angry at him."  
He looked down sadly. "That's why he's so much weirder with me. You make him feel safe. With me, he's already assuming I'm just waiting for him to get better so I can just lecture him." 

Mercutio had his doubts about most of it, but he accepted it. It was nice, if anything, to think against all the evidence of how his attempts to protect him had actually turned out, that he could make Romeo feel safe.  
"Don't you think he could be mad at us because we abandoned him?" He asked, immediately regretting that leap into crushing vulnerability.  
"I mean… Some part of him has to know this isn't hell or purgatory or some shit and there's something that went really wrong with my presumed death. That's hard to forgive." 

Benvolio stared at him uncomfortably long, he couldn't tell if trying to figure out some hidden feeling in him or just in disbelief, then shrugged and drank his soup straight from the bowl - Mercutio needed heroic efforts to not comment on his manners and derail a serious matter as every survival instinct in him urged to. "That might be. But he'd be madder at you then, I think, since you're the one he can't explain. Though I suppose he could be mad at me too for not talking you out of whatever it is you've done in his mind."  
Mercutio tilted his head, fighting off a new wave of itchiness for no reason at all. "Or just because you didn't say no. It's not like I forced you to go along with it."  
Benvolio frowned. "Well, he doesn't know we had any plans going now, does he? He couldn't know about all that."  
"Fair"  
_Reasonable._

He rubbed his eyes and stirred off the vague feeling of unfairness, leaving the remainder of his soup on the table - neither of them was inclined to fuss about order in the slightest right now, and he didn't see anything good coming from any further conversation on this matter. They went up again, sat on both sides of the bed and waited.  
.  
***  
_  
The spring Romeo turned thirteen, Benvolio received a letter from his grandfather summoning to spend June in Trieste, in order to meet his kin on his mother's side and - although Benvolio enlisted their help to strategically spill ink on this part before he showed it to Romeo's parents - "get some fresh air and peace from that hell-hole of debauchery".  
While Benvolio was cautiously excited about it, and Romeo went along with it, Mercutio threw a fit for days, ranging from just staring at Benvolio sullenly whenever he tried to talk to him to pretend-crying and tearing his hair like a forsaken war widow. Until the very last days of May, even after he calmed down, he kept talking about his incoming fifteenth birthday, sometimes flaunting his detailed plans for it including everything Benvolio would have loved, sometimes declaring he would inevitably spend it miserably in his room with just his own hand a wine flag for company. Failing that, he launched into a spectacular list of acts of reckless courage that would doubtlessly kill him or leave him crippled, meant to convince Benvolio of how much he absolutely needed to be around to take responsibility and talk him out of it.  
Benvolio was guilty and flustered, but he understood even less than Romeo what was going on and only kept repeating that it was only for a month, they would have two more to enjoy the summer together, and he would hardly be alone when he still had Romeo and all the other boys of the Montague faction, but the open acknowledgement he was upset and someone else knew it only made him angry. _

_Romeo was just of the age where he was starting to understand something about other people's feelings, and he worried a lot.  
Despite this, once Benvolio was actually gone, Mercutio came back out of his shell like a butterfly spreading its wings, full of bad jokes and worse ideas as ever. He didn't even try to pretend he had any intention to go through with spending the night in the woods without torches or getting Romeo to tie a rope around his waist and dangle him into a well to see what was at the bottom, but it immediately became clear Romeo's birthday gift to him would spending that month doing everything not unreasonably dangerous Benvolio would never agree to do, and Romeo's idea of unreasonably dangerous was enough in the middle of the other two's to make that an interesting proposition. _

_They dove from questionably high bridges, pulled pranks Romeo was now ashamed to repeat, got tipsy and sung in the streets at unconscionable hours, valiantly attempted to teach dog tricks to a snake they caught in the woods and almost spent a night in the Capulet's dovehouse, only forced to give up because it turned out that doves, contrary to what Romeo was inclined to think from poems and the Gospel, were not actually very peaceful or soft-voiced.  
They never actually ended up spending much time with the other boys of the Montague faction, never mind even getting close to replacing Benvolio - a fear he had confessed when they shared a bed the night before he left, as telling it to Mercutio too was simply unthinkable.  
Romeo had been very shy at that age and he was absolutely delighted by this development - he had never really thought taking the initiative to breach out of their special little group was mostly on Benvolio, since Mercutio did usually love company and attention so much but for some reason he seemed very intent on keeping him all to himself. _

_Still, about ten days in it was obvious that there wasn't actually all that much that Benvolio objected to and they ended up mostly calming down into a more sustainable routine - going to the river, climbing trees, drinking and singing or just lying around, talking each other into more and more convoluted circles of words until they weren't even exactly sure what they were saying.  
Mercutio was loud and aggressive in these games when they were in public, showing off his cleverness, but when they were alone he never tried to make it into a competition, simply whispering in his ear and lighting up when he made him laugh.  
He slept at his house about every other day and they shared beds, leaving the window open so they could hold each other without feeling too hot.  
He asked him why they never went at his house once, emboldened by the darkness, but Mercutio had been shocked by the question and taken a bit too long to ask him why, did he want to rob him? and he had to let it go.  
For some silly reason, Romeo had thought it would be the same as with Benvolio, and he would be more inclined to tell him secrets if it was just the two of them, but it wasn't so and it made him feel betrayed.  
Mercutio had to notice that, because he took to kissing him and tickling him quite aggressively every time he got close to a personal question, but Romeo was less easily distracted than everyone seemed to think, and he still worried, he worried all the time, he could barely look at him without flushing and cold sweats and he-he- _

He awoke in the freezing water and tried to fight it, as if he was as stupid as everyone thought and thought you could just decide to stand up and run from eternal damnation, and fell back, banging his head against the wood.  
He closed his eyes against Benvolio and Mercutio’s worried gasps, too tired to face the light. Was this what it feels like to drown? He had almost drowned once, trying to chase a rainbow-scaled fish on the bottom of the river, but Mercutio had pulled him out and hugged him so tight he had almost died then instead. Was it from that time too, or were they smaller?  
He remembered the feeling of his soaked body against his, smooth, innocent, but then with Mercutio everything was shameless, so in a way everything was innocent.

He would never see his face again, that was what he was supposed to remember. This in front of him was not Mercutio, he had seen Mercutio be stabbed and fall over almost crying in Benvolio’s arms. He would not have such a reaction, his jokes would not sound so terrified if it wasn’t a legitimate dying wound, not Mercutio, and then he had to assume Benvolio was too. He had found it comforting to think they were his friends’ ghosts, that, however misguided and lying, they wanted him to live and go on even if it meant facing the rest of his life utterly alone, that there was still someone who loved him.  
He struggled to believe it now. He wondered how awful a friend he must have been, that even having killed two people and hurt - so many, oh, so fucking many it was the two of them Satan had chosen to torment his conscience, and oh Lord if it was working.  
“I murdered your cousin” he whimpered to Mercutio when he leant to whisper something in his ear, without any particular idea of what that would accomplish, if the real Mercutio would insult him and cry then or laugh or what.  
He took his hands and nuzzled their faces close, their noses almost touching, and said “Don’t be silly, you’ve never done anything that nice for me.”  
Benvolio grabbed his arms and pulled him away.  
“He’s completely gone, he thinks he's seeing that girl. Don’t you see you’re upsetting him?”  
There was a brief round of screaming - _oh this is hell, this is hell for sure_ \- and Mercutio left slamming the door. Benvolio held his hand as he cried in frustration. 

They kept coming and going, fighting and kissing - though some part of that was in his dreams, how could he know - and every time they talked he could not hold their glance and that was no good for figuring out anything at all  
One day they poured lavender blooms in the bath water, said it was to help it calm down, and when Mercutio put a sprig in Benvolio’s hair he burst into tears and ran off, returning angry and cold.  
Romeo didn’t even know how to start figuring out what Benvolio was. He was always honey sweet and soft when he spoke to him, but when he turned away his face was hard. He had feared, when he didn’t come to bid him goodbye before his exile, that he had killed himself, that he could not live without Mercutio, and maybe that was true and he was regretting it? He would regret it, that was not very like him at all. Romeo was not sure if he regretted it.

He could not live, oh that was sure, but he had hoped he would be with Juliet when he died, maybe assumed somewhere in his mind that she had poisoned herself too, that she couldn’t take his exile, the fear, the guilt - that was so stupid. She was a bright angel. She was so much braver than him. Everyone was always so much braver than him.  
Sometimes, when they kissed him or pulled him in their arms or they were all lying in bed together, he let his imagination drift and imagine that they were really alive, that all would be well, that they suffered for him and the warmth came from their loving hands and not from the flames all around.  
Those nights, he dreamed of Mercutio waking in his narrow stone coffin in the Escalus crypt, banging against the ceiling, his breath growing more and more frantic in the oppressive darkness. Screaming hoarse cries for help no one would ever, ever ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * here Romeo is referencing the punishments for damned souls in Dante Aligheri's Inferno, specifically those reserved for violent people, traitors to their kin and suicides.


	3. Chapter 3

At some point, they stopped being scared Romeo would never wake up every time he closed his eyes. The fever faded slowly, leaving him cold and lethargic but mostly lucid, and he could take tea with a little honey and milk without being sick most of the time. He was still in a lot of pain, though he tried harder to hide when he saw how lost and scared they were in the face of it, direct sunlight still gave him headaches, he still woke from nightmares completely disoriented and so sensitive they were scared to reassure him in case they sent him spiraling in delirium again. Sometimes they managed to keep the situation under control, sometimes they said the wrong thing or were too distant and it took hours to calm him down again, bundling him up and holding him tight between them until he stopped shaking.  
A few times they managed to anger him so much he tried to walk off, but he was still too weak for anything of that kind. He was mostly upset when one of them left, so after a while they gave up on taking any sort of turns and slept all curled together, never taking their eyes off him for a second. He wasn’t really in such danger that they needed to watch him closely the whole time anymore, but it made him feel safe, and that was enough. 

They could go whole days without talking, and Benvolio was obviously welcoming it - he was going for stoic. Efficient, detached. The face of the boy with the plans, the problem solver, the dutiful, promising young leader, the little boy who asked for a puppy and got a knife under the pillow, and that was allowed to be Romeo’s loving, affectionate brother, encouraged too, because being a Montague was nothing more than the opposite of being a Capulet and family was nothing more but to feel protected and strong, but only reluctantly allowed to be Mercutio’s friend as a tolerated whim of an otherwise golden child, and never Mercutio’s lover, never.  
It was a fragile, old face that didn’t get used often around them, and it was much more sustainable without words.

But for Mercutio silence and sleeplessness and a state of constant fear didn’t mix well, and when he visualized the three of them holding each other in the quiet, unmoving air he saw the stifling hole of a tomb, or the three lost little boys holding hands in the woods again, but this time half-sunk in the fallen leaves, stiff, morning frost settling over their wide startled eyes.  
He tried to break it with stories, but the funny ones barely got a token smile, if Romeo didn’t fall asleep or completely check out midway through, and he knew the scary ones would make him cry.

In the end, it was Romeo who got sick of it first.  
"Where are we?"  
They looked at each other uneasily.  
"We could not take you back to Verona, you know you're still exiled," Benvolio said, after a little hesitation "But we're quite near. Your old friend Friar Lawrence took us in the country so you can rest and get better. We'll figure out where to go when you're feeling better."  
Romeo twitched restlessly in Mercutio's arms. It was early in the morning and he was still fighting the weight of his eyelids, his mouth twisted in frustration.  
Benvolio cupped his cheek. "If there's anything more you need to ask, you can. We're here for you."

Mercutio stiffened up in dread himself for the questions to come, but Romeo accepted the answer and curled up against him, shivering. They ate, gave him tea and a little sliced fruit he could still barely keep down, rubbed his clammy skin and unresponsive limbs with a damp cloth warmed on the fire because they couldn't get the bath hot enough for him to tolerate, let alone soothe him.  
He tried again in the early afternoon, when Benvolio was napping with an arm around his waist and Mercutio was curled in front of him, their legs braided together. "Are you hurt?"  
He clarified, when Mercutio took too long to run through every possible meaning of that. "Did your wound get better? Are you still hurting?"  
He smiled, relieved. "No, I'm alright. It was a very small cut, just went through some skin. It was… scary in the moment, sure. But I'm fine now."

Romeo frowned slightly. "And you're not just trying to play the big hard man no one can hurt?"  
Mercutio smirked at him. "Well, if I was I would not tell you, would I" he said, but still took his shirt off and guided Romeo's hand on the reddish little scar on his side, doing his best not to wince at the touch.  
"That's good" Romeo whispered, his cheeks blushing pink.  
Benvolio lifted his head, rubbing his eyes. "Don't put it back on."  
"Mh?" He looked at Romeo and winked, making him giggle. "Well, if it will comfort you, very gladly."  
He tossed the shirt on a chair and took his place next to Romeo, who let out a happy sigh and leaned his head on his shoulder.  
"It's warmer, skin against skin. Feels nicer, doesn't it, Ro?" Benvolio said softly, as he sat up without looking at Mercutio, slightly flustered.  
"It's time we write something to your parents. They still think you're in Mantua,and they must have written to you and gotten no answer. I have no idea how to justify that, but we can make up something all together." 

Romeo was able to sit up and hold a pen, but being willing to leave the warm nest of the blankets and Mercutio's arms was a much different story.  
Benvolio ended up writing it as they made up reassuring and wholesome anecdotes to put in it - including an heroic effort to defend a poor old lady from robbers which had resulted in a sprained wrist, which should explain the lack of letters and the obviously different writing on this one.  
They made a game of it as much as possible, and given that Benvolio showed no sign of frustration with how long they were taking, he suspected it had been meant to distract Romeo, which at least seemed to work. 

It got them through a little longer - one more tea, one more nap, one more warming massage, they had given up on time keeping completely - but they were shivering, on edge for the next questions to come.  
Encouraged by the improvements, Benvolio tried to give him a few spoonfuls of soup and a bit of bread with honey, but it was still too much for him and he was sick again.  
He started crying when the nausea passed, in nervous little hiccups that made him shake like a leaf. Benvolio embraced him, nuzzling against his cheek and stroking his back, but he didn't find it very comforting.  
"No, no, come on. You're doing so well and you'll be alright soon, why cry?" 

Romeo took a shaky little breath and bent down, avoiding both of their eyes. "I just want to go home. I want to go home."  
He hid his face in his hands and cried like a small child, more in frustration and helplessness than anything else.  
"None of us can go home now," Mercutio interjected, as gently as he could "But we're all together and we're safe. That should be like home, mh?"  
He only got two blank looks.  
"Where's Juliet?" Romeo whined into Benvolio's shoulder. "I want to see her so bad. You never even told me that!"  
"We've told you" Benvolio replied "she's with Friar Lawrence, he's looking after her. She’s alive and meant for you to know that, but the messenger couldn’t make it. She’s safe-”

“You’ve told me that already” Romeo pouted “But you don’t really know it, do you? Have you heard from Friar Lawrence again? Just tell me you have no idea where she is and you don’t care. That it’s not your business if a Capulet girl gets killed or beaten by her parents or married off to some old man, now that I’ve killed the young one, and I’m the fool to care. I’m sick of you lying to me.”  
He instinctively elbowed Benvolio off and curled on himself, but then he looked up again, defiantly awaiting their response. Mercutio exchanged a quick, confused look with Benvolio - they didn’t have much to give him.  
“This is nonsense.” Benvolio tried, slowly and calmly. “What’s Tybalt got to do with it? The Capulets certainly weren’t going to marry her off to her cousin, would they? This is some bad dream giving you strange ideas. You shouldn't be concerning yourself with this. We couldn't hear from Friar Lawrence because he had a few troubles with the law, but that doesn't mean she was just abandoned to her destiny." 

“What’s Tybalt got to do with it?” Romeo laughed mockingly, grimacing in pain like the very gesture completely betrayed everything about the boy he was. “I tried to tell you, but you didn’t listen. I killed Paris… I killed your cousin, Merc, she was supposed to marry him and he tried to stop me when I was going into the crypt, he attacked me. I didn’t hesitate a bit. Can vengeance be pursued further than death, he said. Apparently it can and I will." Mercutio froze, thinking of the blood they had seen on the entrance of the crypt. Was this their doing? Had something broken inside Romeo the day he thought he died?  
“You didn’t kill him” Benvolio interrupted him, a bit too quickly. “Well, probably not. We didn’t see any body, and not much blood either. You fought him and got freaked out, that’s all, and moreover, this isn’t something you need to worry about. You’re already exiled.”  
“I didn’t?” Romeo brightened up for a moment, then shrugged. “That just means she’s going to be married off faster. It’s nothing to you.”

The wave of rage seemed to have evaporated from his body and he was weeping again, looking from one to the other with lost, accusing glances. “You know, if you cared about me you’d try to care about her just a little too. But everytime something matters to me you act like I’m being a baby throwing tantrums for nothing or I just want a new shiny thing to distract me but… it’s not my fault I feel so much.”  
He jerked away abruptly from Mercutio’s attempt to touch his cheek. “You must think I’m so stupid. You didn’t even deign to explain why you’re alive, and here, and what you were doing in that Capulet crypt. I didn’t want to ask you at first, I was so happy you were here and you were fine, but I could never think you’d care so little that you’d run with it and never tell me.” 

The heartwrenching look of hurt on his face snapped Mercutio out of his shock. “Of course we care! How can you say that? We could not very well confuse you when you were already barely telling dreams from reality.” 

“Well, you can tell me now!” Romeo crossed his arms defiantly. “I assume you didn’t make a miracle recovery in the ten minutes it took me to kill Tybalt, so? How are you going to explain this to me? I keep thinking about it, and I feel that I’m going crazy because nothing I can think of makes sense. Just have some respect for me, if you can, and stop treating me like a child who can’t understand your mysterious motives.”

The room went quiet for a moment. Mercutio could see Benvolio's shoulders move up and down frantically with his breath, trying to piece together something that wouldn't upset him somehow.  
"First of all, Romeo, I swear, we were supposed to tell you about this the same day. But we never expected you'd kill Tybalt, and then I was held back by the prince to testify and after a while I really had to go check that Mercutio wasn't actually dying, and by the time we were done I assumed you had already left town. But we were going to see you in Mantua and talk to you as soon as possible."

Romeo's eyes widened. "You didn't expect it? You didn't think I'd be angry?" He looked at them, disoriented.  
"I… I know you don't think I have it in me to do anything, but not even you, Mercutio? You didn't think I'd care?"  
"It's not I don't think you have you have it in you to do _anything_ " Benvolio interjected, indignant, before Mercutio could dwell so much on the stinging memory of how he had thought Benvolio might have killed Tybalt to save face or off the main witness before he even considered Romeo might have done it out of love.  
"I just thought murder wouldn't be the first thing you'd do. I see I was wrong."  
Romeo looked down, his eyes filling with tears again. "I don't know."  
He rubbed his cheeks angrily and crossed his arms. "I don't know, alright? I don't know what happened to me, it's pointless to talk about it. Go on and try to tell me the truth." 

Mercutio felt it was his turn. "It wasn't planned. I promise you that. We… 'Meo, we had been talking about the fact we don't want to live in Verona for our whole lives for a lot of time, and we might never have gotten such a good chance for it. Especially…"  
"Before Ben' s wedding." Romeo finished, then burst out laughing. "Because he never had any intention to get married, because you two are in love and never told me. Didn't you think I'd figure it out at some point?"  
They looked at each other. Benvolio frowned. "It would have been better for you to not figure it out. We wanted to spare you the fear of keeping such a secret."

"Spare me? This is good."  
He giggled again, too pained to sound truly bitter. "You just think I wouldn't have kept it, I know, but why? We've always told each other anything, and I never betrayed you."  
"No, you never did" Benvolio said "but you realize how different it is, this is a secret that could get us disowned or killed. It's not we don't trust you, just…"  
"It's so much different, 'Meo"  
The words came out his mouth almost unwillingly, as he reached for Romeo' s hand. "We've been feeling this since we were children, we were so scared when it started, and you were always reading those stories with fair maids and gallant knights who never went farther than hand kissing, we couldn't figure out what you were going to think. If we told you, and you looked at us with disgust… I think it would have killed me."

He tentatively touched Romeo's cheek - he squeezed his eyes shut, fighting against the tears, and lost it, turning away abruptly to sob into the pillow. "I just don't understand what I did wrong, if I've been such a bad friend that you'd think- God, with disgust? I was always so happy for you and you were so fucking in my face of the time you must think I am a complete fool to not have figured it out and… Disgust! What kind of people think so little of their friends?"

Benvolio scooted closer to him, audibly struggling to keep his words even. "Romeo, it's not we think little of you, just… well, I think you should be more sympathetic, given…"  
"No!"  
Romeo cried out in agony, burying his face in his hands. "I can't take a word anymore. I know I asked, but I didn't think it would be so- I must be really a complete fool. Just leave me be, please." 

They didn’t want to leave, but it was clear they had to. When Benvolio tried to talk to him again he just dropped into silence and closed his eyes in a childish, desperate gesture, as if he could fall asleep in a split second and shut everything else out  
They went downstairs and sat down on opposing sides of the table. He stared at Benvolio as he pressed his face against the wood and sobbed quietly. He knew he should be preparing when the time came to give Romeo the rest of the explanation, but when he actually tried he found the idea of thinking about it like it was a verbal sparring to be won made him sick, and he found his brain was too ingrained in the old habits - hardened, defective - to think of it any other way.  
He thought of holding Benvolio’s hands and kissing them, of wrapping his arms around him, of pressing him against the wall and kissing his neck until he was in another world and too distracted to fret, but he didn’t think it would work now.  
The only useful thing you could for anyone is die, and you’ve wasted your chance at that.  
He wondered what Tybalt would think, seeing him indulge in such knightly, heroic notions. The child within him would have been awestruck and giggling, even capable of ignoring how Montagues were the targets of it, but the child within him had been lost to time and hatred and it suited Mercutio well enough, didn’t it? He had always preferred him bitter and spiteful, found him more fun when he wasn’t too attached to any annoying ideals, like the selfish child he himself was. He wondered how things would have changed if he’d stuck with him, dressed up in red, accepted whatever snotty distant Capulet bride Tybalt would have insisted giving him as an unbreakable seal of their love, accepted him for his family.  
He couldn’t help but think neither Romeo nor Benvolio would be in this situation now. 

Maybe a few hours later, Romeo came staggering down the stairs, the blanket draped around his shoulders like a heavy cloak, his face blank.  
Benvolio let out a little yelp and ran to put an arm around his waist, helping him down the last steps. “I’m happy you want to talk, but you really shouldn’t be out of bed half naked now!”  
He had him sit on the edge of the fireplace and started fiddling with the ashes to revive the flames. Mercutio sat on the floor and rubbed Romeo’s hands to warm them, smirking when he heard him sigh in pleasure, but it very much did not look like he really wanted to talk, so he avoided his eyes.  
“There you go” Benvolio chirped. He took his shirt off and draped it in Romeo’s lap, wiping sweat from his face - they had almost forgotten it was August. He sat next to Romeo, close enough he automatically leaned his head on his shoulder before remembering he was angry and stiffening up again, but he made no further attempts to prod.

Romeo spoke of his own accord, after a little while. “I’ve been thinking. I don’t know if I can forgive you, but I think I understand why you’ve done what you’ve done. I’m trying not to be too angry at you for leaving, you… you’re in love. Can’t quarrel with that.”  
Mercutio smiled, ignoring how unfitting that word seemed for them right now. "That's good. But you didn't need to come all the way down here to tell us that. It's not like we don't deserve to stew in guilt a bit."  
"I came down here to… to prove you I'm fine, and you can tell me the whole truth."  
He nodded. "What do you want to know?" 

Romeo bit his lip and closed his eyes in thought for a few moments. He supposed there were quite a few questions.  
"Well, first of all, what the hell did you come to do in the Capulet crypt?"  
He snorted, shocked this was the question of all of them. Benvolio was equally puzzled, and he presumed, thinking of something that made sense to say, but he anticipated him. "Tybalt was haunting me."  
Romeo gasped in shock, and he elaborated "He wanted a flower on his grave."  
He looked at him with wide eyes, his mouth open in a concerned little O.  
"Well, has he been haunting you again?"  
He shook his head in amusement, his heart filling up with a deceptive tenderness that was definitely calm before the storm, but sweet all the same.  
"That's a relief"  
He straightened himself up and reflected a little more before he spoke again. 

"When you said all those things to me before you went away, that it was my fault for getting between you, a plague on our houses and all that, were you really angry? Or why would you say something like that if you knew you weren't really dying?"  
Mercutio breathed out slowly. "Well, I knew I wasn't dying, but I was really hurt, and very mad at everyone. It was the best way to pretend-"  
"But why pretend!" Romeo snapped. "I keep thinking about it. You could have… You could have been sweet to me, kissed me goodbye, said you wanted both your dearest friends with you so we would all have gone to a private place and you could have informed me right away."  
"This was all so risky and poorly planned already, Romeo" Benvolio whined softly. "And you're emotional, and not good at lying - now don't make that face at me, it's true, we really needed you to cry and act in a believable way for everyone there, and the prince especially." 

Romeo groaned in frustration and balled up, his hands pressed to his temples and eyes staring open in disbelief. He was not crying, but that somehow made it worse. "We would not have let you suffer for long, I promise. It was a matter of an hour, just the time to testify and make a good show of what happened. Then we would have gone back to meet Mercutio and talked."  
"An hour" he whimpered, leaning back against the wall. "I know, I know, I'm passing in the wrong by thinking so badly of you that you wouldn't have told me, am I? But an hour would have changed so much if you trusted me enough to tell me right away."

"We always trusted your good intentions, just-" Benvolio started saying, conciliatory and gentle, but Romeo snapped and smacked his hand over his mouth to shut him up.  
"I'm not even sixteen yet and I'm a murderer - a kinslayer damned to God and men, my wife is alone and in heaven knows what kind of danger, my spiritual father rotting in the dungeons, I'll probably never go home again, or see my parents, and… I was so happy to at least see my brothers again but I don't know if I can call you that now. My life is over because you couldn't have faith in me for an hour!"

"It's nowhere near over" Benvolio pleaded, softly touching Romeo's cheek, but he turned sharply.  
"And all for nothing, because as you see it turns out I could keep my own secret very well when I needed to and everything would have worked out perfectly if you hadn't meddle in with your stupid fights. But of course you needed all this death and pain to figure out maybe I could have some intelligence, some determination to do something I really care about, that I'm not a stupid child who knows nothing of the world anymore."

Mercutio was exhausted, and furious, and what was worse, the kind of furious that ended with him bursting into tears and it was the last thing he wanted now, for Romeo to think he was trying to soften him up, to get his pity. He was furious at himself and at the fact that they'd been so lucky and worked so hard to bring Romeo back from the brink of death only to lose him to their own stupidity and callousness and it all came out at once in a guttural scream.  
"Stupid fights? Wasn't it I was ''so good'' and I '' died for you'' just a little ago?"  
He saw Romeo blink in confusion and he realized he must not remember those delirious conversations at all and it only made his fury mount. "You know, since you' re talking about secrets, maybe I wouldn't have felt the need to get almost stabbed to death to cover for you if you'd told me you had a fairly good reason to avoid this fight. I can only wonder."

Benvolio made a few very angry gestures in his direction, but he straightened up and ignored him, the fury starting to melt away into a sick pleasure.  
Romeo balled up his fists. "Are you really going to play this game now? For all I know, you were planning this from the start and got in that fight just so you could fake your death and you're still trying to lie to me."  
"Still lying? No, not at all, Meow Meow. I was absolutely going to die for you if needed like the reckless little fool I am. Not even to save your life, since it turns out you could take him out perfectly well, but to preserve you from getting blood on your pure, innocent hands. Now, I have a question for you-"  
"Mercutio!" 

He shrugged in Benvolio's direction. "No, no. He said he doesn't want us to coddle him and he wants to know the whole truth. So, Romeo, do you think it would have changed something here if you thought to tell your own brothers, as you say, that you had gotten fucking married the same fucking morning?"  
Romeo was lost for a moment, biting his lip."Well, the only way this would have changed was if you… Well, are you saying you'd just have left me to fend for myself if you'd known why I was refusing the fight? Because this isn't very-" 

"No, you idiot" he snapped. "Because if we knew you had a serious situation of that kind we might have tried to help you out, but no, you had to make this big statement and prove you could do everything on your own, instead of, you know, ever telling us if you felt like we didn't respect you enough."  
"I wasn't trying to prove anything, I-"  
"Romeo" Benvolio interjected, cupping his cheek "Mercutio is being needlessly harsh and very impulsive, as usual but don't you think he's at least partly right? It's a bit hypocritical to be so angry that we didn't tell you our plans in advance when you were keeping such a secret from us."

Romeo shook his head. "No, no. It was different. This was Juliet's secret too, not just mine, and you've always discouraged me every time I talked to you about any girl I liked, Rosaline especially, and it could only have been worse with Lord Capulet's own daughter, whereas I never, never gave you any sign I would judge you in the slightest."

"We did that because you only ended up liking girls who made you suffer." He protested  
"None of those ever gave you the time of day, there was that one who sent your letters to her friends and had half the girls in Verona laugh at you for a whole month, and then not one but two fucking Capulets? Sorry if we wanted to look out for you!"  
"Well, do you think you're perfect?" Romeo snapped, his eyes turning bitter, poisonous. "You said you figured out you were in love since you were children, right? I saw it too, but I also know that you slept with Tybalt Capulet for a whole year and I didn't tell Benvolio to stay away from you, that you would only make him suffer and he was a right fool to ever try to care about someone, right? Because I believe in both of you and you don't! "  
He flinched, unprepared for this harshness, his eyes stinging. He opened his mouth to speak, not even knowing what kind of defense he could put against that or if he was just going to start sobbing, but Benvolio jumped between them before he could. 

"Alright, maybe we could have judged you a bit, or teased you, you know how Mercutio is, but that's just how we've always been with each other. It doesn't mean we wouldn't have helped you!"  
"Oh, really? You wouldn't have lectured me and told my parents? You would have trusted me? I just can't believe that. You're still calling it _a serious situation_ like I need you to cover up a murder, instead of being in love with a sweet, kind girl that never did anything to you except having the wrong name."  
He sniffled and forcefully wiped his cheek with the back of his hand. "It's stupid to compare anyway. We were planning to announce our marriage as soon as we could and bring peace to Verona. We never meant to run away at all."

Mercutio stood up and he _didn't want_ to smirk or to tilt his head mockingly, but it happened before he could stop it. "Oh, yes, now I see what your problem is. You could have told us right away and avoided all this crying and blubbering, you know? We'd have understood."  
_You're in time to stop still,_ he thought but it didn't feel true. "You've made it into this whole ordeal about how we're dishonest, no one respects you, we don't believe in you, we're cruel and indifferent to the plight of poor Capulet girls getting married off, but in the end it's just that you're jealous we were going to run away and leave you here."

For a moment the room was silent, only interrupted by Benvolio gasping in fear. Then Romeo stood up abruptly, took the two steps between them and slapped him, so forcefully his head rang and tears leaked out his eyes.  
Romeo stared at him with a glance of pure fury for a while, then he let out a shaky sigh and fell on his knees.  
He turned around and saw in the corner of his eye Benvolio wrap an arm around his waist and stroke his back as he began to sob, but he couldn't stop.  
He knelt out in the yard and leaned his forehead against the ground, his fists grasping the grass, choking a scream in the back of his throat. 

Benvolio followed him out a few minutes later.  
"He's fine, just very upset. I told him to try to sleep on it. What got into you? He hadn’t brought up missing us at all, it was unnecessary.”  
_Of course, what you don’t think about won’t hurt you_ he thought, but it was too bitter to say out loud, and he didn’t move.  
Benvolio touched his shoulder, making him flinch, then softened. “I’m not mad at you, believe it or not. I know it’s strange to see him so angry, and that you’re upset. I’m just trying to keep everyone sane.”  
“What a saint” he mumbled sarcastically, but he turned around a little, and Benvolio touched his cheek as he hadn’t in days and he couldn’t help but lean on his shoulder, sniffling embarrassingly. 

“He’s right, you know” he managed to say. “I’ve fucked everything up. Maybe it would have been better if I had died for real, for everyone.”  
“You shouldn’t even joke about that!” He cried out, scandalized.  
“First of all, despite everything, you know he’s happy to see that we’re alive and we’re fine. And if you had really died, he would still have killed Tybalt, he still would have been exiled and the friar would still have gone through with this awful plan, but there would have been no one to save him in that crypt. The only thing that would have changed would be I’d have lost both my dear friends instead of one.”  
Mercutio frowned. He wanted to lose himself in his embraces, in his reassurances so badly, but he knew he didn’t deserve them. He knew he should be agreeing with him, he should scream at him and throw him against the edge of the well and beat him blue and black, _the only way the stupid half-wild child will learn_ , he could already feel that deserved punishment against his skin, and it would have hurted less than counterfeit gentleness, than the little hesitation before he said _friends._

“No, you’re right on that” he snapped, ashamed of his childishness. “That’s not enough. It would have been better if I had never been born.”  
Benvolio lightly punched his arm concern shadowing his face. “Now you’re just talking nonsense to avoid the issue. Our lives would have felt terribly empty.”  
“ _I_ am avoiding the issue?” he scoffed. “No, you can quit it with the diplomacy. It’s a fact that this is all my fault, it all comes from my own stupid idea, and you can stop trying to make me feel better. That’s how Mercutio is, you said it. It’s stupid to get upset about it.”  
“It’s not all your fault” Benvolio said softly “I should have talked you out of it”  
“Talked me out of it again?” he grunted in frustration, kicking the grass. “This isn’t… this isn’t throwing eggs at the Capulet’s house, Volio, you weren’t supposed to try to talk me out of it and then do it anyway and laugh about, you were supposed to be excited about it. Weren’t you?”

“What? What has this to do with anything? Why do you keep blaming yourself if it’s obvious you blame me?”  
“Because…” he couldn’t put what he was feeling in words, he could barely put it in thoughts. He could feel the heat going up to his face, his blood boiling - half with anger half with pure shame that he needed that excitement so much. “It’s your fault too, it’s true, in the sense that you have to regret it too, but in reality, it’s different, because you would never have had such a stupid idea on your own. So really it’s all on me.”  
Benvolio’s eyes were lost in confusion. “This is ridiculous. How come you only think this much when it’s to hurt yourself? It’s done. It doesn’t matter whose fault it is. Romeo will realize it too with time.”  
“Romeo is smarter than you are. He knows better. Maybe that’s your one mad idea -that you fell in love with me” He cringed. It felt like such disingenuous wishful thinking said it at loud. “But if you look into your heart, you’ll realize it. Maybe I am the plague on both your houses. Here to take you away from your intended path of marrying some poor girl who hates you, popping out a bunch of brats who will be terrified of you and running into a blade when you’re no use anymore with my stupid, fanciful, mad ideas. Maybe I should run off into the night, so you can all go back to normality and never see me again.”  
He expected a bit of rage from that at least, if not to the extent he deserved, but Benvolio only looked terribly sad, and that was much, much worse. “What’s wrong with you? Why don’t you want to be loved? I didn’t think that would be the hard part.” 

He wanted to laugh, but he couldn’t. He stood up before him, spreading out his arms in a last invitation to come onto him, hurt him, punish him for everything. Benvolio shook his head and looked down, his eyes welling up with tears, and for a moment his saw him running into him and hugging him instead, but he didn’t do that either.  
Mercutio turned around and ran off into the growing darkness.

***  
_  
Benvolio came back tanned and cheerful, with a flock of freckles on his nose and showing off a string of foreign bad words to make a Capulet eat his hat. He brought them painted seashells and a jug of Austrian ale that was meant to be for Mercutio's birthday, but once they were on the hut on the riverbank he decided Romeo was old enough to drink too - Romeo and Mercutio exchanged sly glances and made no mention of how they had spent the last month.  
"So, did you like your new cousins?"  
Was the first thing he asked when the alcohol gave him the courage, failing completely not to sound jealous and petty.  
Benvolio was lying down on his stomach, his legs crossed behind him and swinging back and forth. "Mhhh, yes. But they're all either really small or older and treat me like a baby who has to be taught everything."  
"Oh no. That's awful" Romeo said flatly, and Mercutio giggled and punched his shoulder approvingly. Benvolio didn't notice at all.  
"Yes. Moreover, there's so many of them. I had to take notes. But they are nice and we had so much fun. It's so nice to have the sea right next to your house, boys, it really is. I have to ask my grandpa if you can come next year." _

_"You're going again?" Mercutio screamed like a dying crow, his already lacking volume control annihilated by the drinking.  
"Well, yes, I think, or maybe she will come next year. Though it's true that… Oh, boys, I have to tell you something, but I don't think you'll believe me. It's so embarrassing."  
He sunk his face in his hands, blushing vividly. Mercutio caressed his hair.  
"Silly baby bunny. Like we'd ever judge. Just tell us where the body is."  
Benvolio let out a long, exhausted groan.  
"Come on" Romeo urged him, already tired of waiting.  
"I'm getting married."_

_The boys shrieked indignantly and Benvolio covered his ears. 'Not now, not now, they decided we should get to know each other first, but it will happen, we signed a sheet-"  
He was interrupted by a slew of questions. He explained to Romeo that the girl's name was Silvia Fattorini, she had golden hair and blue eyes, had two older sisters and a pet squirrel and, for what it was worth, seemed nice, and to Mercutio that no, they hadn't been allowed to go swim naked but from what he saw her breasts were pretty small which, he hastily added in an effort to show a modicum of chivalry to his future wife, really didn't say much since she was just fourteen and not yet flowered and that was why they planned to wait two years and a half, which really only resulted in Mercutio and Romeo's giggles and exclamation of horror at the word "flowered".  
He then launched on more description of the city, the fishing, the Austrian dances and Austrian ale and abandoned the topic, but Romeo's mind lingered. _

_For months the idea of Benvolio getting married seemed dazzlingly romantic and exciting. He fantasized about the ceremony, about visiting, about having little nephews and nieces, informed himself on the future's bride favorite flowers and colors and even attempted to assist Benvolio in the arduous task to write the young maiden letters, although Benvolio tended to write off his ideas every time and ended up with results, in Romeo's opinion, quite unpoetic in style, unhelpful in their purpose to help her discover the contents of her future husband's heart and sadly devoid of perfume and pressed flowers. The only thing that seemed off was that it was still impossible to get a straight answer on whether he was in love, but Romeo decided to not let that bother him. After all, though he supposed Benvolio' s heart was gentle enough* he was still too much of a blockhead for love at first sight and it would take time._

_Mercutio, while he had not expressed an explicit opinion at first, didn't seem as happy - he began to spend quite a bit more time with his Capulet friends, to the point they feared he was angry at them, but soon it became clear he only went there to fight. Still, his bruises were darker and in stranger places than usual, neck and collarbones too, he struggled to walk sometimes and it seemed more like he was getting brutally beaten up on a regular basis than just engaging in sparring with someone who wasn't afraid of going all the way with him, as he put it.  
They worried, but after a couple of questions Benvolio told him to stop pressing and his attempt to follow him brought nothing substantial.  
Still, with them he was as cheerful as usual and they had to let him be. _

_However, a while after he turned fourteen, Benvolio turned sixteen and their suggestion to have Silvia come to see Verona or at least for Benvolio to take his friends with him was vetoed, he started to feel uneasy.  
Mostly, the reason he was given for that was that it was Benvolio who needed to get to know his future home and city, not the other way around, and this was completely new to him.  
"Isn't it generally the bride who has to move into the husband's house?" he pointed out, mostly annoyed no one had felt the need to tell him anything.  
"Well, what home would that be" Benvolio replied, rolling his eyes. He was very busy lately, kind of distant, even though he didn't seem all that brimming with enthusiasm either.  
He kept hammering him with questions, suddenly full of doubts.  
"Are you sure you want to do this?"  
"Why wouldn't I" Benvolio would reply, giving no explanation as to why he would.  
"You're in love?"  
"I like her"  
He tried to ask Mercutio, but he only had bitter and sarcastic comments to give. And he worried. _

_On the last day night before he left again he broke down crying, burying his face in his hands to shield himself from Benvolio's judgemental glare.  
"Did you always want to leave us?"  
Benvolio pulled him in a hug and nuzzled his head on his shoulder, like when they were little children.  
"I'm not leaving you. This is normal, everyone has to marry, we always knew. We'll always be just a couple days of travel apart, we can visit each other all the time. It will be so nice, Ro. You could come with us for the summer. Our children will still play together and be friends, we can go finally go sailing-"  
"I don't want to go sailing" he snapped. He thought about their little hiding place at the river, of the makeshift rafts they'd piece together and sit on for hours when they were children, crying out for imaginary pirates and staring at imaginary stars for guidance. Everything he imagined always became so boring and dreadful when it became real. I don't want us to grow up.  
"Are you even in love with this girl? You don't have to marry her. It's not like she's an old maid and can't find anyone but you either. You can say no." _

_"I've told you, I like her. She's a nice girl and I think she's in love with me, which is sweet. Everyone has to marry at some point, and let's be real, there's no point in waiting. I've never been in love with a girl before and I'm past the age for first crushes, clearly that's just not so important to me."  
"That's a lie!"  
He clamped his hands over his mouth, ashamed of how shrill his voice sounded against Benvolio's soft and reassuring tones. He shouldn't even say that - he didn't even have any evidence for this that wasn't strictly forbidden from being said out loud. "Listen, listen. If you're not in love, there's no need to marry this particular girl, is it? Contracts get broken all the time. Surely my father isn't planning to force you into a monastery, you must know that! He'll find a wife for you when you're older, a wife from Verona or who's willing to come live here. We'll all grow old together and our children will be like siblings - me, you and Mercutio. I know we must grow up, I know, but it doesn't mean this has to end!"  
His words failed him and he grasped Benvolio's hands, holding them against his heart as he leaned into his embrace.  
"Oh, Romeo" he whispered in his ear, shakily, and Romeo realized with a pang of guilt he was crying too. "You're the sweetest, you always were, and I want this so much, but I can't, can you understand me? I could never have children in this place."  
"Do you think there will still be a war when we grow up?" He sniffled, looking up sadly. "The war is between Capulets and Montagues. We're the Montagues. Why shouldn't we be able to just stop it? Neither of us ever wanted to hurt anyone."  
Benvolio stroked his hair. "We are already grown up, and we already want to hurt people. It might look like children playing, now, but every time we have brawls or rock fights or duels we're getting ready for that. Tybalt Capulet's father and mine murdered each other in front of our eyes, and you think we'll be able to just sit next to each other at Christmas mass for the rest of our lives in peace? No. The only way we won't murder each other too is if we never see each other again, and he surely won't be the one to make sure that's the case. He wants me dead, and he wants to take Mercutio from… from us. There's only so much I can avoid him." He smiled sadly, taking his face in his hands to kiss the top of his head before he laid back down to sleep. "You're braver than me, I know, but it's too late. If it was something people could decide to stop, it would be already over."  
Romeo whimpered bitterly, half wanting to scream, half to curl on himself and never get up again. "How do you know that? No one ever even tried."_

_He didn't get an answer. He never would.  
_

He slowly blinked awake, pushing himself up on his elbow. He had slept too long and too badly and his head was pounding, but when Benvolio put an arm around his shoulders he flinched away.  
“How are you, baby?”  
Romeo thought don’t call me that and thought he should slap away his hand when he ran his fingers through his hair, but he was too weak to do anything. He needed this, he noticed shamefully. _Why? Clearly they don’t need you,_ he thought, but when had that stopped him?  
“You had such an awful night. I was scared you’d relapse again.”

“Just a bad dream, that’s all.”  
He crossed his arms defensively, turning away to avoid the worried look in his eyes.  
"Where's Mercutio?"  
Benvolio hesitated. “He went on a walk. You know how restless he gets.”  
He scoffed. “Are we still doing this? You can tell me that he hates me. I don’t think there’s anything that can upset me more than I already am at this point.”  
“I wouldn’t be saying that out loud.” He sighed and sat on the bed, not too close, taking his hand. “You know full well he doesn’t hate you. He has taken a lot more than slaps from people without so much as mild dislike, and he could never hate you.”  
Romeo wanted very much to believe that was true, but that was a wishful hope meant for a boy he wasn’t anymore. “I doubt my slaps are as pleasurable as Tybalt’s, though.”

He cursed himself, because the last thing he needed to keep his composure was thinking of Tybalt in someone’s bed, laughing and disheveled, in that time of his life that must well have existed at some point where he didn’t care to hurt anyone except in bed games, but it had the effect he wanted on Benvolio’s face, and he had to be strong.  
“Well, you’ll tell me when you mean to stop being a jerk, I suppose.”  
He picked a cup of lukewarm soup from the table and handed it to Romeo. “There. I’ve made it as light as possible, but you have to start to eat something substantial again, especially if you mean to keep going around slapping people”  
Romeo looked up at him, trying to figure out if it was a joke or a lecture, but Benvolio had decided he didn’t deserve the slightest hint and only sat down, staring at him expressionless.  
He was not letting him win.

He finished his soup in slow sips, stretched and curled up again under the blanket, bundling up to avoid any display of weakness. He hadn’t paid any mind to the fact he was half naked in the past days, but now his bed was empty it was hard to withstand.  
Still he was going to have to. He gritted his teeth and tried to imagine Juliet’s warm smile for a while, her curious, eager kisses, the tenderness of her arms around him in her bedroom. However, that strongly tempted him to close his eyes and lose himself in the bliss and he wanted to keep them on Benvolio, so he was forced to give up. He knew he was not going to want to start a fight, and that there was a very likely chance they’d just sit staring at each other until Mercutio came back and shook things up, but every time he thought of speaking first he felt strange - an overager little puppy.  
They’d say that a lot about him when he talked to girls, and he had always written that off as phony cynicism, but that was because he had always thought it normal that ladies couldn’t give him much of a reaction - not all of them could be as sincere and passionate as his sweet wife. But with his friends he hoped things could be a bit more equal, so he kept quiet

In the end, Benvolio cracked first.  
“You know, Mercutio cried when we found you. He was so scared for you he almost fought with that poor friar.”  
He straightened up, too alarmed to put much effort into holding onto silence. “What now?”  
“Well that… doesn’t matter. But he has been very upset this whole time. He never left your side, and seeing you suffer almost killed him. I know he doesn’t show his feelings well, but you have to consider how hard all this was for him, and it’s unfair to be mad at him or act like he doesn’t care.”  
He blinked. “You do know I’m mad at you too, right?”  
Benvolio shrugged it off. “I was scared for you too, that’s obvious. But that’s not the point. What I’m telling you is that we were so worried, and when it came to something serious, to life or death, we really cared about you and never left your side. That should be more important than a few ill advised secrets, I think.”  
He took a deep breath, struggling to sit still. “Well, I don’t. I know you care somewhat, after all, you’re… my childhood friends, my drinking mates if nothing else. Most people don’t like to see other people suffering and I think anyone would prefer anyone to live than to die, there’s nothing special about that. Balthazar or the flower seller in Piazza delle erbe could be my brothers if you count that. If you really loved me you would have faith in me and care about whether I’m happy, and you showed me you don’t.”

Benvolio blinked like he was on the brink of tears. "We do. We might have made a few mistakes, but we always wanted you to be happy."  
His eyes were soft and glistening, and Romeo's arms twitched to spread out and call him to hug him, but he resisted. "I know you do. I just don't understand what have I done wrong that you know the best way to make me happy was to keep me so ignorant and alone - I know I've been too much in my head, that maybe I've been selfish, but I don't think I've been so bad that you'd think I didn't need you or your trust to be happy? Or that I'm too naive, maybe, that I can't really know what I need to be happy and I can't be trusted anyway, but I'm just two years younger than you and really I don't-"

"Well, what is it you want exactly?" Benvolio interrupted his rambling, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "Our trust, I get it, but that doesn't actually mean much - no one can trust anyone with everything and always, I think. Mercutio and I surely don't. What do you want in practice? Would you have liked to run away with us, if we'd told you?"  
Romeo looked down, flushing a little. He had thought about it more than he should, and yet he wasn't sure. "I don't know? Maybe if you'd asked me before I knew Juliet. I would have been so excited when we were kids. Or after, we could have ran away together, if she agreed - I had some very strange dreams about this, where we were all here together. Sometimes there was Tybalt too, though-"  
He noticed Benvolio's amused smile and cut it off, embarrassed. "Well, maybe not. I'd just have been in your way."

"This would have been a lovely plan, I must admit." He squeezed his hand. “And no, why would you? Did we ever make you feel in the way? We have always spent almost all our time all three together.”  
He suddenly felt stupid. “Yes, of course we did. But sometimes… well, after I realized what was going with you, everything felt different, like you were only still hanging out with me so it wouldn’t look like anything changed. You were always making fun of me lately… for the girls, the poetry, anything I said-”  
“Well, we have hardly ever been the nicest to each other, have we?” Benvolio giggled.  
“Yes, but you know, it felt different, knowing. As if you making fun of each other was playful and sweet, but with me you really meant it.”  
He laughed again, more bitterly. “I assure you your friend Mercutio doesn’t find it any easier to be playful and sweet to me than to you.” He hesitated, playing with his fingers.  
“Romeo, listen, it’s not as deep or as important as you think it is. I- this is going to sound a little patronizing, I know, but a reason I've been such a dick sometimes is that I don't want you to repeat my mistakes. I see myself in you, sometimes, when I was a naive romantic too-"

"I think you're way more of a naive romantic now than when you were my age" he interrupted, rolling his eyes.  
"Then that's one more reason to listen, since you know I'm talking from experience, and not because I'm the usual cynical nuisance."  
He had to admit that was a fair point, and he liked that he admitted that.  
"When I say that you have no reason to feel in the way, or left out, I completely mean it. There's nothing special about being in love, kissing, all that. I know it feels different when it's the first time someone loves you and you are experiencing all these new things, I felt it too, but in the end it won't change you, it won't change the other person, and there's a good chance it won't change anything else in the world, now what do you want from life. It never changed what we feel for you as a friend, and I don't care about him more than I care about you, and I'm pretty sure Mercutio doesn't either. They invented marriage so there can be children, and the love poets write about so everyone has someone that should matter more than anyone in the world and they don't have to feel selfish when they ignore the rest. That's not how I wanted it to go."  
Under Romeo's horrified eyes, he wiped away a tear. "So, by the way, we will stand with you whatever happens, but I'd start thinking long and hard about how much you're willing to sacrifice to be with this girl."

Romeo bit his lip. "She's worth anything to me. She won't ask me to sacrifice anything."  
"There's always something."  
Benvolio buried his face in his hands, letting him go. "It doesn't seem like it, but there's always something."  
He edged closer, hesitantly, putting his hand on his cousin's shoulder. "Ben, are you and Mercutio so unhappy?"  
He shrugged. "A little, but it's not important. I don't want to bother you."  
"I want to be bothered! It would be quite a waste for you to all this and then be unhappy, and I would like to know if that's the case." He snapped "Since despite everything, I genuinely am still happy for you." 

Benvolio sighed, dubious. "Things are not going so badly, I think, we just had a little quarrel yesterday, after you went back to bed, but that's quite normal with him. I'm more unhappy with myself."  
He squeezed his hand. "Why is that?"  
"I never thought I'd be so selfish." He grimaced in disgust. "This sounds a bit arrogant to say, but no one ever told me I was selfish before. I always tried not to be, and the fact I've really given everything up, I disappeared without telling anyone, I almost got you killed when I had promised I would protect you. I could at least have killed Tybalt."  
"Why now? You knew Mercutio wasn't really dead, why on Earth would you think that?"  
"I should have anticipated it might happen, and I should have anticipated that the prince was going to just exile me in that case - it made perfect sense, since I had to leave anyway and that was the perfect excuse. But I've let you take this on your conscience, though I swore to myself you would never have to go through this, that you'd stay innocent. Why? Because I let myself believe it was for love, and I allowed myself to believe love was worth it." 

Romeo huddled against him as he sniffled." No, no, you couldn't have known. You should have told me, of course, but it's always worth it to follow your heart. It's not selfish to want happiness."  
"But I'm not happy, and my heart, thank God, gets along with my head, and I know it says I love you both equally, and I have duties, and this person who up and leaves without caring one thing but for what is left in his wake isn't me. It was something else - not really my prick either, I think there's a difference and I never felt what I feel for Mercutio before, but still, I don't think this could be my heart." 

Romeo felt terribly lost. "I don't regret what I did with Juliet" he said softly "and I don't think you should regret it either. I know my love is pure and yours is too. It's the world that drove us to make such terrible mistakes, otherwise no one would need to have any secrets or hurt each other. I think you should try to remember that."  
Benvolio looked at him and smiled tearfully. "I can't believe I ever wished you would change."  
Romeo flinched in surprise when he kissed his forehead, but then he embraced it, leaning his head on Benvolio's shoulder so there was no space between them. "But this just doesn't work for me, I can't accept it. We have to live in this world, and I _hate_ that we can't change it, we can barely change our own life, but that's it." He shook his head. "I don't have any idea of what I'm going to do now."

"There's nothing you have to do. We're all together now."  
"Yes. All together" Benvolio said, savoring it as if it was a prayer or a magic word to make everything good again. "I just don't know if I'll ever stop feeling guilty."  
"Well," Romeo pointed out, after a small pause of reflection. "If you want to make it up to me for all the secrets, you could start telling me about how you and Mercutio ended up to this point. I only figured things out properly last summer, and I feel like such a silly ninny for missing everything."  
Benvolio snorted. "I think it's the last thing I want to talk about and the last thing you want to hear, and you just want to make me feel better, but I love you for that."  
"No, no. You know me, I like a good love story."  
That made Benvolio giggle, and though there was still an uncertain, vacant look in his eyes he started from the beginning, curling up with him like when they were children. Romeo was not sure he was telling the whole truth and it was soon pretty obvious he was sticking to the sweeter moments he hoped would make him laugh, but he accepted the kind of curiosity he felt on this matter would not be easily sated by any retelling. 

When he was trying to detail a particularly ill advised and unappreciated poem Mercutio had written to him when they were thirteen - hinging, from what he could tell, on him calling Benvolio's hair an unruly swallow nest and then elaborately spinning it into a compliment by pointing out how fitting and natural it was that any bird would take such a sweet, charming and level head to make his home - Mercutio came in through the window.  
His eyes were red and circled and dark streaks ran down his face, as if he had been through some particularly dirty rain, and he smirked bitterly when he saw them.  
"Why, you've gotten all snuggly without me" he said, and turned to go downstairs, but Benvolio put an arm around his waist. Romeo wanted to get up too and hug him, but the sight made him feel a little uneasy. He didn't know if he was still mad, and he wasn't sure if he could trust Benvolio when he said Mercutio still loved them both equally - he knew he was trying to make things right, but he suspected the instinct to avoid upsetting him was stronger, so he only muttered a good morning, smiling slightly.  
"We were just talking about how nice it would be if we could go to take Romeo's wife and find our way out of Verona all together" Benvolio said with a gentle smile, causing Mercutio to raise his eyebrows in mock curiosity. Romeo felt himself blush a little and wished that he hadn't said it, though he quickly reminded himself he shouldn't. He had a right to want to be with his wife, and if Mercutio could find some extravagant reason to be upset for that it didn't mean he had to feel guilty. 

"That's a very diplomatic and harmonious idea. I can see why you'd like it. All of us under one roof getting along perfectly. Though I don't know if the young lady would have found my company charming." Mercutio was saying, his voice expressionless, throwing his cloak on a chair. "If I had known I'd find you in such a tender mood I'd have picked some flowers."  
"Where have you been?" he asked, overcome with curiosity. He realized he didn't know why Mercutio and Benvolio had quarreled. He hoped it wasn't his fault, though it was not likely - although, even if they had fought because of him it didn't mean it was his fault. He had every right to be angry. 

"To deliver your letter, remember? You forgot about it pretty fast for someone who's being so dramatic about not getting to go home."  
He rolled his eyes and turned away, cursing the stupid, childish way he had softened up. He should have some retort ready for this, not blush and stammer.  
"You went to our house? Didn't you think you'd be recognized?" Benvolio interjected, alarmed. Mercutio leaned against the wall, crossing his arm.  
"Yes, Benvolio. I went to the place where I pretty much lived since I learned to walk and asked the lord and lady of the house to receive the living corpse personally."  
Romeo winced when he saw the exchange of glances between them, steely and cold. 

"Well, thank you."  
He muttered, flustered. Mercutio shrugged and dipped into a curtsy. "Anything to feel the loving touch of your pure and gentle hands again."  
He jumped and lowered his head, biting his lip not to tear up. The way he had imagined this morning to go, he thought he'd have to struggle to bring himself to forgive Mercutio. He hadn't considered he would be angry. Of course, it might be he was hurt, but would he, really? He imagined he'd shrug off such pathetic insults and childish tears as he had put forth quite easily.  
"Are- are my parents alright?"  
Mercutio scoffed impatiently. "God, Romeo, you can't think I could really go at your house-" 

"No, I know, I got that from the obvious mean spirited sarcasm." He snapped. "Just… Did whatever messenger you talked to tell you anything substantial?"  
Mercutio sat down on the bed, distractedly looking at his hands. "Well, your mother got ill when you left, but she's much better now and there's nothing for you to worry about. Your parents think Benvolio is in Trieste - that watching me slowly bleed out and leap to my death caused this "moodiness", I believe the word was, and for now your cousin Michele is heir to the house, but they plead for your pardon to the prince every few days. They worry about your lack of letters, fear you've fallen in a gloomy disposition and have written to your uncles in Mantua to distract you as much as possible by introducing you to some respectable young ladies - I imagine they must be quite confused by these letters. My cousin Paris lives, exactly as we told you, but he lives unwed, if that soothes your jealous soul."

"Who is it you sent, who knows everyone's business in such detail?" Benvolio interrupted - Romeo groaned and fell back on the bed, drumming his leg impatiently.  
"You know many people possessed of good information, when you live as I did, a humble firefly in the night" Mercutio chirped, winking sultrily, but with his mouth still twisted in a grimace.  
Benvolio was not impressed. "There is no way this all comes from one person. You've been wandering and talking to God knows how many people. What if someone recognized and followed you? You're still the prince's nephew, though you try so hard to not act as such."  
Mercutio shook his head. "The prince's nephew is a merry fool with carrot hair. I kept my hood on and dipped ink on my hair for good measure, and it dripped down in the rain giving me such a pretty tragic mask." He pointed his fingers at his cheeks, grimacing dramatically. 

Benvolio scoffed. "Well, I suppose you'll take the risks you want to take and we all will just live with it." He took his leave, turning just one time before he shut down the door. "And it didn't rain tonight."  
Mercutio scoffed and put his feet where Benvolio had been sitting, kicking his boots off. Romeo swallowed nervously - he could see the tension in the room deflate, but it was uncomfortable to have his whole attention on himself. For such a scatterhead, Mercutio's attention could be quite a heavy burden.  
"Well, what more?" he asked.  
"Such eagerness. I take it you're not as concerned about the risks." 

Romeo hadn't really considered that, and he didn't particularly want to. He was bad at being sensible - the only result would be getting all flustered that Mercutio took such risks for him, and that was the last thing he wanted to waste time with right now.  
"Well, I may not have any more news for God knows how long. I'd like to know." He amended.  
"As you command. As I was saying, my cousin has not succeeded into sneaking up into this one little girl's skirt. It made me suspicious. I asked around, and it turns out she isn't in Verona at all. I could not find out precisely where, but she's still the heir to her house and I must assume she hasn't been married off out of Verona."

Romeo could not help an excited yelp at that, and Mercutio's face shifted too fast for him to describe exactly how before going back to its smirk. "Charming news indeed. And, less exciting for you, perhaps, but more useful for us mere mortals, while there is a great deal of romance about the poor girl waking miraculously in her tomb, no one seems to be gossiping about you too. Clearly at least that secret didn't spill out. I saw our old friend Friar Lawrence too - nice old man, though I think he holds a grudge against him. He was recently released, they couldn't prove he had anything to do with your wife's suspicious death, and people find it easy to believe a half-crazy old man could go strolling in graveyards for no particular reason and just happen to heed the poor girl's screams for help. He had the antidote, but I told him to shove him up his ass"

"Mercutio! After everything he did for us!"  
"Patience, patience" he reached out, as if to tickle him, but then pulled back, disappointingly. "I didn't, you know. I just wanted to make this more interesting - for someone who left such a mess behind him, your business is dreadfully boring. I just told him you're well now, and we talked a bit, and he sends you his regards and herbs to help you get some strength back and soothe your nightmares. I would skip those, if I were you. Since you're locked here for a while anyway, the best you can have is a few interesting dreams" 

Romeo smiled, and almost covered himself with the blanket, but then decided he could let it show. "You sound more cheerful. More like…"  
"Mercutio? Yes, indeed. What can I say? I don't have such a sensitive heart as you do. Fights invigorate me. I needed one after all this weeping and fretting, I wasn't feeling like myself anymore."  
Romeo rolled his eyes, touching the dark traces on Mercutio's cheek. "Sure. We're strong men. Fights don't break us."  
"Precisely. They don't break us."

Their hands had linked mysteriously in the course of this conversation. Romeo looked down at them, feeling like he needed to make a dreadful effort to breathe.  
"You know" Mercutio said, after a moment of silence. "Now that seemingly you don't want my early demise anymore, I can trust that you won't tell Benvolio this."  
Romeo looked up curiously, and Mercutio started digging in his bag. "When I said I didn't pass by your house, I may not have been entirely honest."  
He handed Romeo a notebook. He pressed it to his chest, fighting uselessly against his eyes filling with tears.  
"Mercutio…"  
He expected some mockery, but he was only smiling tenderly. It made him uneasy. "I don't believe you've done this just to be nice. I bet you had fun reading this on the way here."

Mercutio snorted. "How do you think I knew where to look for it? I can already quote this by heart."  
Romeo groaned, burying his face in his hands. He had been writing there since he had been able to hold a quill, about anything that ever bothered him, and it had taken him a terrible long time to figure out it was often more graceful not to mention names in verses.  
"I don't know how to thank you" he admitted.  
Mercutio stroked his cheek. "You don't have to thank me. I figured since you are so displeased by our company, writing love sonnets to your darling Jule might be a pleasant distraction." 

Romeo giggled, but when he opened the notebook on one of the latest pages a sigh escaped his lips." You know, I thought I was through with writing love poems. When I was with Juliet, the worst just came spontaneously to me, and it was so much better to tell everything to her directly than to write, and to hear what she said… I  
I don't know if I will like it as much as before. Maybe I'll just make myself sad."  
"That's just nonsense. Poetry is for yourself most of all, and then for me to read and act out loud and laugh at, and then maybe for the person you're thinking about. But you should write just because you know that your words are precious, and your thoughts even more. I always thought I had made you believe this, but I learned a great deal more about the failure I am, last night."  
There was no trace of playful self depreciation in his voice. 

Romeo threw the notebook at him in indignation, and then threw himself in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * reference to Guinizelli's "Within the gentle heart abideth love", a staple of love poetry Romeo definitely takes as gospel truth


	4. Chapter 4

_My dear husband  
I hope this letter finds you well, that you’re happy and safe and have recovered from your ordeal. I tried to come to see you as soon as they brought me home, but I fell off my horse and I got caught. I had to improvise and said I had seen a ghost, so they just thought I had run mad from being buried alive and I had a few days of peace.  
Friar Lawrence told me that your friends are looking after you before he was arrested, so I hope this is at least cheering you up. I felt very alone after I came back.  
They don’t say it to my face, but everyone is saying that I did this on purpose to get out of my wedding, or for attention even, and that even if I didn’t, I still committed the sin of self-slaughter and am better fit for the convent, which, you must agree, doesn’t seem very logical. Paris still tried to go through with the wedding, but my parents didn’t even let him see me, so now he goes around saying he refused me because I’m mad, and my family says that he’s the one who lost his mind - he had been telling everyone that you fought him in the grave and wounded him before you went on to desecrate the bodies (I’m so sorry.  
I wish I convince everyone of what a good and noble man you are, how much fortune has taken it upon itself to slander you and make thing hard for you, but no one ever believes me)  
so our families are in the middle of a scandal again and nothing changed.  
But the truth is that my parents have changed their mind, and said they will not force my hand in marrying again, that the thought of losing me showed them how little all that mattered, that they just want to be happy. My father cried, and my mother hugged me so hard she wouldn’t let me go and kept saying that she has no use for a son at all, that I'm the loveliest child any mother has ever had.  
It's confusing, and I don't know how long it will last, and I'm sure you're not included in the possibility to choose my own husband, but they haven't taken their word back, for now. They've sent me to my cousin's house in Venice so I might forget my pain. She's quite stupid, but sweet. She married a Moor gentleman who tells the most amazing stories, and there's always very interesting company at her house. She lives right on the harbor. I've been wanting to see the sea for so long. From my bedroom I can see the sunset, and at first I used to think of you, and wish you were here to see it. Dawns are ruined for me since you left anyway.  
I don't know exactly why I'm writing you all this - I guess it's just I don't want this letter to come to its point. I'm quite ashamed of it, but I can't help it.  
I've been thinking a lot these days - of how beautiful the world is, of how many people love me, of how our life has just begun. I was so full of anger when I met you, and you were so bored and sad, and we didn't believe in anything but in love.  
I'm trying to understand if it was such a whim, if it was only out of spite at my parents - I don't think it was. I felt truly in love with you when I married you, and we may be destined to still be in love someday - but it was a choice I made when I didn't fully know myself, recklessly and selfishly, and I can't be your wife now.  
I was not fourteen yet, I had no witnesses and no permission from my parents - in the eyes of the law, we were never married. I want us, if we're to fall in love, to do it with true freedom, without a rush, without dark feelings poisoning our choice, when we're grown up and know better. But if it's not to be, I want you to know you gave me the sweetest, maddest two days of my life. You changed my life and even with everything that happened, with all the pain we had, I don't regret a thing.  
With love  
Your friend Juliet _

The letter fell from Romeo's trembling fingers. They both instinctively reached for his hands, but he shrugged them off, grabbing his hair in shock, his eyes wide as saucers.  
"Someone knows about us," he said when he could speak again. "She can't have written this. My parents found out, or maybe hers. Probably hers. Mine wouldn't be so nice about it. Or Paris, he would have - although this isn't very flattering to him, but that might be why he did it, to make it more realistic, but whoever it was, someone wants us apart. "  
"Breathe, Romeo." Benvolio put his hand on his back. "Try to focus, you're talking nonsense. Don't you recognize her handwriting?"  
His eyes filled with tears. "I've never read her handwriting before! We never got more than two days!" 

This made him sob and rock back and forth for a while, as Benvolio and Mercutio looked at each other in confusion, uselessly stroking his hair and putting glasses of water on the nightstand he pointedly ignored.  
At some point, he rose up abruptly and started packing, throwing on Benvolio's shirt and fastening his sword at his belt. "I have to go back to Verona, I have no choice. That's the only way I'll figure out what's going on."  
They tried to stop him, and he lashed out. "For all I know, you're the ones who wrote it. You only started all that drivel about all running away all together and getting along so I would trust you. You know how I am and you took advantage of me! Some friends!" 

Mercutio pulled him into a tight hug and he keep rambling about how stupid he was and how easily he had gone back to being a trusting little idiot until the pressure melted down his defenses and he almost dropped in Mercutio's arms.  
He sat down, pulling him in his lap, and he helped him lower his head between his legs and count his breaths until he calmed down and retreated into a sullen silence, as Benvolio held his hand with a concerned look. Mercutio looked at him, wondering if he was following his own train of thought, if he realized that they had done more damage than any poison or sword, that Romeo might never be trusting and innocent again, but Benvolio was sharply focused on Romeo and ignored him completely.  
There wasn't really a point in sulking about that - how dreadful, how naked it would feel, to be in love with someone who could read his mind - but he still did. 

"I just can't understand." Romeo complained softly, leaning on Mercutio's shoulder.  
"I can't blame you for that," Benvolio said, examining the letter. "I'm sorry, I know that's not what you think, but it seems to me this girl is a bit two-faced. Why so many poetic words to say she's found some other boy?"  
Romeo growled at him. "How dare you? She means it, I know she means it."  
"How can you be so sure? You've spoken to her twice before you got married and once after. Maybe she's just better than other maids at seeming innocent, but she's no different within." 

Romeo shook his head. "No, no. I know this. How many times did you speak to Silvia?"  
That turned him alarmingly white, flinching. "Almost every day for a month before we signed our betrothal" he stammered.  
"I see. Well, Juliet would have been married to Paris after speaking to her once, at the ball. Why do I not have a right to love her then? Why is it reckless and selfish?"  
He buried his face in his hands, sniffling, then straightened up abruptly.  
"I want to go outside. There's no point in me boring you."  
Mercutio hesitantly stroked his hair. "That's nonsense, Meow Meow. We're here for you. You can tell us everything."  
He looked tempted,but shook his head. "No, I don't want to. It's just annoying whining with no point at all, since you don't know her and you can't tell me anything useful. I'm sick of stewing here."

Mercutio felt uneasy about it - Romeo definitely enjoyed hiding in the bushes and sulking alone when he believed no one would listen, but it was hard to stop him when he was given the chance. This time, Benvolio picked up on it and shared his worry, but he chose to not express it out loud.  
"That's alright. You know what will make you feel better more than we do, I suppose." He drew him closer and kissed the top of his head, making him scoff, but Mercutio saw a little smile flick on his face. 

They ate - Benvolio insisted they tried to make some Friar Lawrence's invigorating tea, which Romeo drank with soldierly stoicism - and put together enough spare clothes between the both of them that he could go outside reasonably covered up. Benvolio checked on him from the window and giggled when he curled up between the lavender bushes, his face hidden in a cloud of purple flowers. "He has not changed as much as he thinks."  
He turned to him and kissed him, his eyes sparkling and mischievous. Mercutio was startled for a moment - he hadn't really stopped kissing him in these past days, but it was always when he felt it was needed to calm him down or encourage him, never giving him the impression he wanted it too. 

He almost wanted to refuse, to ask what he was doing, but the flesh was weak and Mercutio had never said no to anyone in his life and he was so, so tired. "Is this what we're reduced to," he said breathlessly "an old married couple waiting for the children to leave the house to have fun?"  
Benvolio was laughing hysterically over him, as if this was the cleverest quip he had ever produced, and it did nothing to assuage his fears, but he was so sick of walking on eggshells all the time, of the uncertainty, and for a few hours he just let himself forget everything. 

It was late in the afternoon when Benvolio dozed off, a smile still on his lips. Mercutio looked out at the window, trying to soothe the rising dread in his chest. They had taken breaks to check on Romeo everytime they shifted around and he seemed perfectly well, though restless and not at all inclined to come back up. That was a good reason for sex as any - the only one he should have ever tried, he was starting to realize. Celebrating a good thing, happiness, fun. He shook his head. It didn't feel right, but he'd have to make himself enjoy it.  
He climbed down the stairs, reaching Romeo in the yard. 

He had changed position, sitting curled up with his back against the well, looking up at the small sliver of sunset breaking through the sky. His face was damp with tears.  
“Ehi” he called out, sitting on the grass. “How are you feeling?”  
Romeo glanced at his obvious bed hair and smirked weakly. “Worse than you and my dear cousin, certainly.”  
He scoffed, ruffling his hair. “If that was so, I’d be trying to wrestle a poison bottle from your hands again, and not talking to you calmly in a beautiful meadow.”  
He rolled his eyes. “You’re being dramatic. I know you’ve been having fun. You don’t have to all be miserable because I am.”  
“I know this will sound strange from me, but believe it or not, fun and happiness are not the same thing, and there’s one thing Benvolio wants with me.”  
He felt strangely embarrassed and dirty saying that in front of Romeo - talking like this of someone who was basically his brother, but he had never been great at restraining himself. “That’s just how things went for us. I guess love is just for those who can do it well, and we’re not that kind of people.” He swallowed, suddenly feeling very close to tears. “Well, what about you? Have your lonely reflections been productive?”

Romeo shrugged sadly. “I don’t know. I can’t feel my heart anymore.”  
He laughed gently. “You’ve abused it far too much in a little time. You should give it a rest.”  
“I can’t. I just can’t. I’m trying to be understanding, to remember - she said I’m free from the promises I made, and she should be free to. We decided to love each other because we wanted to, no contracts, so it’s only fair we should be free to decide to stop too. But it changed me so much, and I hate this was all for nothing.”  
He raised his eyebrow. “How did it change you? You don’t seem all so different to me. A bit more jaded, maybe, but I suppose that’s more on us than the poor girl.”  
Romeo laughed weakly. “No, it’s not that. It started a lot before you did anything. Until I met her I always felt out of the world, almost - Do you know I don’t really regret I killed Tybalt?”  
Mercutio squinted at him. “Yes you do. You told us several times. That he didn’t deserve this, that now you’re a damned murderer and so on. You definitely feel awful.”  
“I’m not sure. I feel bad when I think about it, and I felt bad when I thought I’d killed Paris - he really was just in the way, you know. But Tybalt… when I saw Benvolio take you away and I thought you were dying, there was nothing I could do then or I ever had done to help you, to truly show I loved you, that you shouldn’t let yourself die like this in a street brawl - I saw the one way I could love and honor you and I took it. I felt like I was a child before, stuck in my head, with all these dreams and feelings and nothing to do with them, and then suddenly I was a man, I could change it.”

He drew his knees up, leaning his head against them. He was starting to get a migraine. “Romeo, I feel like I should tell you that it wasn’t necessary to kill anyone to grow up, and that I didn’t want you to.”  
“I know, I know that. But it wasn’t just that - of course I’d rather I hadn’t killed him, in the end. But do you think the Romeo I was before I met Juliet would be able to arrange a secret wedding, keep such a secret or defy my parents like this? I wouldn’t have had the wits nor the courage. But it’s so hard to think that it was such a change for me, that these were the only two days in my life where I could do anything, where I could be of any use for anyone and then it turns out to her it’s all a mistake.”

He swallowed, deeply embarrassed by the effect that intensity had on him. “I think you could have done anything you put your mind to, Meow Meow. But what you’re thinking is normal. You’ve thrown your life away and almost died for this girl, you have a right to be angry.”  
He shook his head. “No, it’s not that. I’m not angry. I was at first, but then I kept thinking and thinking, seeing it all over again in my head. Isn’t it sad, we got so little time I can see it all over again so many times so quickly? But I did, and it showed me that she’s right.”  
“No, no, don’t say that.” He brushed his fingers against his lips. “You’ve been so confident these past few days, don’t fuck it all up again. She doesn’t know what she’s missing out on.” 

Romeo grimaced. “It’s sure she doesn’t know. That’s kind of the point, isn’t it? We only knew each other for a day and I was already sure I would never find someone who I could love as much as I loved her, and it had to be the same for her. What does that say about that us?”  
Mercutio sighed and drew him closer, ruffling his hair. “That you’re reckless, and romantic, and from that letter I’d make a wager that girl is a bit touched in the head, not that I can say anything about that. Nothing we didn’t already know.”  
He shook his head. “No, no, that’s not enough to explain it. I could have picked out any other girl in the room if I just wanted a romantic adventure - I suppose there is no difference to you between her and any other girl but the fact she loved me back, but Merc, the way she loved me back! When he first talked, I had a feeling I was ruined for anyone else, that there was no one else made for me the way she was. I made some stupid joke about being a humble pilgrim coming to kiss a sacred relic she took it and spun it into a whole poem - where I was a pilgrim and she was the saint and we could kiss palm to palm and lips to lips if I wanted, because saints have both. Who else could I do something like that with and they wouldn’t mock me to everyone they met for the next five years? And she was so honest, so innocent. Everyone pretends they’re less in love than they are to spare their pride, it’s not just girls being coy, but she told me everything at once and the apologized because she was too fast and maybe I would have preferred to court her slowly. There is no one else I can ever love as much, and now nothing in my life will live up to this one disastrous day I decided to rush in like a fool at fifteen. What’s wrong with me? Why do I only get this one chance?”

Mercutio took a deep breath, trying to make sense of this sudden rant - Romeo had been so quiet lately. “You’re freaking out. You’re so young, the world is big, and there will definitely be other people with whom you can end each other’s sentences or like the same poetry or… whatever it is you want.”  
Romeo bit his lip. “But it would not be the same. They would be doing it just to show off how clever they are, or it would be disappointing, not real poetry, they wouldn’t really understand me, the way she did after only knowing me for a day.”  
He felt irrationally hurt. “Well, someone would at least try their best, don’t you think?”  
Romeo shrugged sadly. “Who? Who is it who would care enough to do that? I know people don’t like boys like me - that I’m annoying, I’m unmanly, I spoil the fun and rush everything. I’m old enough to accept it now - I can’t expect girls to love me as I am.”

He squeezed his hand. “Don’t. You were doing so well - you are learning to believe in yourself, and I love it. Things are harder for you because you’re more sensitive than others, and more sincere too. But believe me, I’m starting to realize how much better it is to live like this.”  
Romeo sniffled, wiping his eyes. “I’m sure Benvolio has never been false to you.”  
He flinched, horrified by how close he had struck. “No, not false. But we started things out as children having fun in a different way, and I don’t know if we ever got past that. We don’t tell each other things, not really. It was the same with Tybalt, but with Tybalt at least I would figure out how he felt at some point because he was so bad at hiding it and he’d always burst in the end. Volio’s sweeter, but he’s colder too.”  
Romeo looked at him with reproach. “My cousin’s not a strawberry ice.”  
He burst out laughing miserably and huddled onto him, deeply ashamed of how the tables had turned. Romeo gently stroked his hair. “He loves you very much. Alright, he’s bad at telling it explicitly. You’re telling me? When we were kids, right after his parents died, when he felt alone or sad or had a nightmare he’d knock on my door and say: ‘Ro, I’ve heard _you_ scream. You must be scared. I’m going to sleep in your bed tonight if it makes _you_ feel safer, and then we’d snuggle up and he’d wait for me to pretend to fall asleep to cry. That’s what you can expect of him. But it still shows in practice - he’s always so sweet and caring with you.”

He sighed. For all he’d gone through recently, the boy was still so bloody naive. “That’s not because he loves me. He’s very sweet, sure, comforting and protective and he just wants me to be safe and happy. But that’s because he knows I love him, and he knows if I love him enough I’ll start to need him, and he wants to be needed more than anything else and I… it’s too much for me. I don’t know if I can go on with this. Tybalt was like this too, again. He wanted me to give you up, to become a Capulet, to act like I needed his leadership and his guidance and… I dont’ know what. I don’t know how I keep choosing people who want to be loved more than they want to love me. It always makes me suffer in the end.”  
Romeo looked at him solemnly, his blue eyes glistening with sympathetic tears. “You’re only suffering because this is such a difficult time for all of us. There’s nothing strange with that - everyone wants to be loved. I can tell you from experience that it’s not at all pleasant or romantic to keep falling in love and never know if anyone loves you back.”

“But you never stopped, did you? You just cared to love more. Nothing could stop you.”  
He cupped his cheeks, felt him tremble. The sunset lights made him look pink and flushed all over, and his eyes blinked shut almost against his will. He had pictured his first kiss to Tybalt before it happened, and it was exactly how he had expected it, and he had pictured his first kiss to Benvolio too, tho that one had been pleasantly more aggressive than his daydream. This was entirely new, and it felt more like the first time he had ever been drunk, like Queen Mab’s feathery touch on his eyelids. He didn’t feel the need to do anything but hold him tight, running his hands over the wonder of his face and curls, drinking his excitement like hot spiced wine. He felt complete, and yet yearning for so much more than this - but not a something he could have here and now.  
He pulled away when he feared it would be too much, smiling wildly, but Romeo’s eyes were filled with tears.  
“How could you do this to me? I’ve already killed for you. You’d make me betray my own brother?”

He fell sobbing in his lap, hiding his face in shame. He snapped out of shock and focused, caressing his cheeks and hair to soothe him. “Romeo, no, no. It’s not a betrayal at all, just - do you feel guilty? You should not. It’s all on me, you know I have crazy ideas. We can never talk of it again, if you want.”  
“But it’s my fault too. I liked it.” He shivered, burrowing into his arms. “Why am I still so cold? It’s August, and it’s been almost a month.”  
Mercutio wrapped his doublet around his shoulders, rubbing his hands to warm them. “You’ll be fine. You’re just scared, try… just try to calm down and listen.”  
“To what?” He looked up, frightened. “Are you going to tell me you love me, or compliment me? I don’t want you to fall in love with me because you think I’m better, or I’m purer or something like that. I’m sure Juliet thought I was different from the other violent and heartless men in Verona too, until I wasn’t. There’s no point.”

“Who do you think I am?” He tickled him, stealing a reluctant giggle and an angry yelp as he tried to control himself. “I’m not some girl you just met. I definitely feel starting to compliment you now and going on for the rest of the week, to make up for not doing it enough before, but I know you too well. You and Benvolio both, God help me, and you’re both equally annoying, though in different ways. But that’s the thing - I love you both. I want you both, maybe it’s better, since I already loved you both as friends. I won’t be complete without the both of you.”  
“That sounds so greedy.”  
“It’s not.” He kissed him again, softer and quicker this time, and though he definitely shouldn’t have, but he couldn’t help himself. “Or maybe it is, what do I know? Maybe I’m greedy, maybe I’m crazy, maybe I’m a mess and I’ll ruin this whole thing. But I cannot choose. I had to choose between Montague and Capulet, between you and Tybalt already, and it was the worst I ever felt. I’m not choosing between my best friends. Do you believe in me?”  
Romeo hugged him tight, sobbing quietly. “I do. I always did.”  
“Good. Then let’s go tell your cousin the plan.”

***

Benvolio looked out the window, vaguely irritated with himself that he had let the night fall before he woke. It was too dark to clearly distinguish anything more than Romeo's outline, but he saw Mercutio curled next to him and he supposed that would have to be enough to force himself not to fret. He had to get used to it - he had to trust them to find their way in the world without him.  
He blinked, looking higher than them. He had never paid attention to whether Verona was visible in the distance, but he definitely could not see it now in the dark. _For the best_  
For all his regrets, he had none leaving that place - flourishing gardens, marble and brick to hide the blood seeping out of every alley. He had never been good with goodbyes anyway. 

He could see the moonlight spill on the Adige though, even if it wasn't the same tract where they had played as children, and he could almost hear Mercutio's voice tease him - _they say bathing in moonlight makes ugly virgins beautiful, go, Benvolio, why don't you try?_  
He had ended up giving in, as he always did, this time because he couldn't well protest in front of Romeo why he was not a virgin - how different would things be now if he hadn't bothered with that? He didn't want to think about it - and he found it terribly conceited to protest he was not ugly. But he'd pulled a rope from the old fishing hut and tied all their ankles together, so even when they were floating in the darkness without seeing each other they would always know from the movements of the rope the other was nearby. 

That's how it will be, he tried to tell himself. They would not see each other as often once he was wed, it would look strange after a while, but they would still always know they'd always be there for each other. He sighed, rubbing his eyes and resuming packing. They assumed it would work if they left Romeo behind, there was no reason it wouldn't work if he was the absent one, especially seeing as in that case no one would be faking their death and marriage was hardly as final.  
He would have to live through this. 

His breath quickened when he heard Mercutio and Romeo run up the stairs, but he crossed his arms and steeled himself. He was going to have to give this explanation sooner or later.  
He raised his eyebrows when they came in, panting and disheveled, and Mercutio planted a kiss on his lips, forcefully grabbing his hair. He threw an awkward, apologetic glance at Romeo, but he had fallen on his knees, giggling almost hysterically.  
“Where did you find the wine?” He joked, then regretted it, biting his lip. This would only make it harder.

He sat back down on the bed, his purpose deflating. “Boys, I’m going to have to leave when dawn comes.”  
He whispered it so softly he had to repeat it again and even then he only got a quizzical look from Mercutio, while Romeo chirped, vaguely tipsy sounding although Benvolio was quite sure they couldn’t have really found any wine “Leave? For where? You are not going to get my parents’ letters, are you, because I really wanted to send mom some pressed flowers and I haven’t really had the time, so-”  
“For Trieste, Romeo, for Trieste” he interjected, desperately, turning his gaze away. “I will be married in September and I need… I need some time to get used to the idea again. I’ve made a note so you can find me again, and come to the wedding, of course, though we have not yet decided the exact date. Guess you’ll have to come a bit earlier and spend some time there together.”  
He forced himself to smile, but failed miserably.  
“What?” Mercutio shook his head, confused. “What’s this, what’s gotten into you now?”

He blinked rapidly, but tears still started to spill out. “I can’t do this. I thought I could break it off and run away and not have a care in the world about it, but I don’t. This plan we had only caused everyone unhappiness, and maybe you can live with that, but I can’t. I’d rather just get this done over with before I regret it further.”  
“Oh, Volio” Mercutio whispered. The pet name feel like a sultry caress down his shirt and he had to grit his teeth not to melt. “I can guarantee you there will not be any further unhappiness.”  
He looked at them again, taking in Mercutio’s half-unbuttoned shirt, the redness on Romeo’s cheeks, their disheveled hair and wild faces, and his heart twisted in painful little guilty know. “Oh, I see you’ve been… well, it’s only easier. It’s a clean separation. You will go your own way, and I will always be your friend and your brother and, again, this doesn’t at all mean we won’t meet again, but I have to go.”

“No, you don’t!” Romeo straightened up, a frightened look on his face. “I don’t understand. You said we would all be together and no one would ever be in the way, so why isn’t that true for you? Are you angry?”  
His face was so pale he looked gray, his eyes wide and lost, and Benvolio felt terrible for being jealous of a child, and then guilty for thinking of him this way when it would make him so angry. He shook his head helplessly. “I’m only angry at myself. You see, Ro, I really meant it, but I can never be sure. We’ve already hurt you so much, and I just don’t trust myself to ever do it again as long as I am still in love, and I still am, Merc, forgive me. I know I haven’t showed it well, but I am. And now with… with this, I would be jealous, I would be unbearable to live with and there definitely would not be harmony between us. It’s the best thing for everyone.”

“For whom?” Mercutio cried out. “Who exactly do you think this would make happy? Not us and not you, certainly. Is this a newfound martyrdom wish?”  
He sniffled, wiping his cheek. “You boys really think that poor girl is a way more dreadful prospect than she really is.”  
He only got two dead-eyed stares. Romeo was on the verge of tears, curled against the bed, hugging his knees. Mercutio put an arm around his shoulders before he went on. “I’m seriously suspecting this is the horrid grown up version of my pretend-crying to make us all tell you how much we want you to stay. You’ve never had any trouble being annoying about harmony as much as your heart desired or insisting to make everyone happy. What the fuck would change now?”  
“But I’ve never been in love before. It was easier when all I had to worry was doing what I was told and loving you knowing nothing would get between us. I always did everything so well. But I know my limits, or at least, I’ve figured them out now, and this feeling… there’s a reason why I never wanted it. It’s stronger than I am. . I can’t be sure I can be a good friend like this, and so it’s better I don’t risk it.”

Romeo raised his eyebrows. “I thought you didn’t think love was anything special? I don’t understand. Didn’t you already love us intensely?”  
He grimaced. “I surely personally _think_ so, and definitely love isn’t anything _better_ than… affection, or friendship, or duty or anything. But it’s such a nice temptation, when everyone tells you it is. That if it’s for love, then it’s perfectly alright to throw every responsibility to the wind, that you can leave everything and everyone, that you don’t have to be a good friend or a good person or sensible or dutiful and you owe nothing to anyone. But I don’t want that. I can accept fucking up a good deal of things, but not you.”  
Mercutio stared at him for a while and he braced himself for his response, as Romeo hid his face into his shoulder, trembling. Then he reached out and kissed him on the lips again, his eyes alight with some sadistic pleasure in his confusion.  
“I don’t want your pity kisses” he snapped. “I’m serious. You two have found some happiness, I see - that’s better than I expected. I want to be sure you understand what I’m saying.”

He squeezed his eyes when Mercutio dipped in for another one, grimacing in disgust. “What is it you’re trying to say with this? I don’t think you’re stupid enough to tempt me. This is the choice I made for myself when I was fifteen. A wife, a family, a place away from Verona so I don’t have to worry about my children being terrified of me when I have to show them what the real world is like or running into a blade before I’m thirty, as you’ve kindly reminded me. If I hadn’t be such a fool to fall in love, I would never have thought it was a good idea to go back on it.”  
Mercutio smacked his lips against his with particular violence and collapsed on the floor laughing, dragging Romeo down with him. “He just won’t understand.”  
He whispered in Romeo’s ear, drawing out a flow of watery giggles.  
He pulled himself up again and softly pecked him again, drawing him closer with a soft palm on the back of his neck. “Tell me, Volio, aren’t we brothers?”

He eyed him with suspicion. “We called each other so, thought I don’t know how advisable it is, after these developments.”  
Mercutio nodded. “Then, aren’t we a family?”  
He lowered his gaze. “We are. We tried to be? We definitely were before we fucked everything up.”  
“Mh, mh” Mercutio took his hand and left a distracted, light kiss on his knuckles. “And you’re so sure that you will keep fucking everything up. It’s quite cowardly of you, I must say - you’ve fallen in love this one time and you’re already surrendering and acting like I’m a demon sucking on your soul. I’ve been falling in love since I first got hair on my prick, with the worst possible people, together and separately, choosing the wrongest possible way every time, and I’m proud to admit I’m the only person in this room who has never before inflicted on the other two their tantrums about love.”  
Romeo giggled. “I don’t think you can say that in conscience, after tonight.”  
Mercutio shushed him with an impatient glare. “So, you think you’ll fuck things up for us if you stay - I’m assuming that what matters to you, as we’re such a sweet and happy family. You worry you’ll be so focused on love you’ll leave Romeo in the way - that would require you to pay much more attention to me than you’re actually capable of - or that you’d go as low as to be jealous of your own sweet little brother. Well, that would not be possible, because this time I’m not fucking choosing.”

He stared blankly, his heart beating so fast and his mouth so dry he felt it would have killed him to make the slightest sound. He turned to Romeo, but when he opened his mouth to give him some explanation Mercutio quickly shut him off with a kiss. Benvolio recoiled, still unused to the strangeness of that.  
“Ah. You’ll have some work to do with this, I see” Mercutio said, matter of fact. “But regardless, this is the choice I made. I’m in love with you both, I should have realized it well and earlier, and I seriously challenge you to find a way for things to be out of harmony or anyone being in the way or a bad friend when things are so.”  
Benvolio could see about a thousand ways for things to go wrong. He felt wrong about the way Romeo flushed when Mercutio kissed him - but then, was this what he should feel strange about, when he’d gotten married and killed a man? He felt irrationally, foolishly miffed by the way Mercutio gleefully screamed “I’m in love” as he never had before. But he it felt so right. He didn’t know how long it was since anything had felt so right.  
He closed his eyes and sighed as Mercutio kissed them, then he grabbed his hand and held out the other one to Romeo, so they were all connected. _The rope doesn’t lie_

“You must be fooling me” he sobbed, hiding his face in Romeo’s shoulder. “This is your- your heist to get me not to leave and God knows what I’ll find you up to tomorrow morning. It can’t be true.”  
They both laughed, Mercutio lazily tickling his neck.  
“You know, Ben” Romeo said, in that bold and sure tone that felt so new for him. “Sometimes nice things can be true.”  
“How childish and preposterous” he said, because this was his role here, and this was an harmonious family.  
But it was, he had to admit, completely true.


End file.
